Nazi Zombies
by LRJG Leader
Summary: Maggot-ridden corpses. Bug-infested swamp. Hundreds of the undead Imperial Army. Choose your tactic and defend for your lives!
1. Chapter One: Hard Landing

Chapter One: Hard Landing

It was late in the evening when the call came in for the men to assemble. The "briefing room" was not much more than a tent, and only four men sat in the steel chairs waiting for their orders. They did not belong in this theatre, the squad of four. They were Marine Raiders, the best the Marine Corps had to offer, on loan from the Pacific for an assignment that would require their expertise. The "ell-tee" in charge of giving the orders eyed the men, one by one.

Their leader was Master Sergeant Tyler Willis, a veteran of every campaign in the Pacific front since Guadacanal. Tough and grizzled, Tyler had dark brown eyes and black hair cut in military standard, stubble on his chin. The corpsman of the unit was Corporal Michael Gyles, also a veteran, but he had joined the fight at Tarawa. He had seen only a few years of service, but by the time Febuary of 1945 had rolled around, he had seen enough. The other two were green as grass, however. Lance Corporals Jacob Marshall and Stephen Agers weren't brothers, but they looked and acted the part-in reality, they had been friends since childhood. Both of them were now twenty, and to the lieutenant they were practically identical, except that Jacob had a baseball cap practically glued to his head. They both had blond hair, but Stephen had emerald green eyes rather than Jacob's deep blue irises. They had signed up only a year before, and had avoided most of the heavy fighting. However, they had still caught the very beginning of Iwo on the nineteenth. They had left five days later with the team, somehow unchanged from the bloody fighting, as carefree as ever. _Everyone copes in their own way, I suppose, _the Lieutenant thought. He sighed, stepped out into the middle of the room, and cleared his voice.

"Gentlemen, welcome to Europe." The LT said, his voice clear and loud enough to be heard over the drone of low-flying P-47s. "I know that this isn't your area of the war, but your particular line of services have been requested." Tyler raised his hand. "Yes, sergeant?"

"Yeah, thanks." Tyler replied, his voice gruff like his appearance. "We didn't get a lot of information on this, sir, but why do you need us? Can't you send in the airborne guys or your Rangers?" The LT nodded.

"I wish we could, sergeant, but the situation here is one of constant pressure on the front. We move a unit away, and the line will buckle. Simply stated, your objective is a threat ot the advance and is simply cannot be taken by anything other than the best." He cracked a grin. "That means you, gents." He turned around and faced a tackboard, pointing at a map. "Your target is Harlung-Merack Airfield, one of the Luftwaffe's quick jobs. Typically we'd just roll right through this, but over the past month we've been picking up increased activity there. Then, a week ago, the entire airfield went silent."

"Like an attack is coming?" Stephen asked, laying back in his chair. The LT nodded.

Exactly. We don't really know what they're doing because we keep on losing recon planes flying overhead." The LT folded his arms. "The plan is simple-we've requisitioned a B-17 bomber for htis as it'll surivve fighters or anti-air long enough for you boys to jump out." Tyler's face paled at the mention of the word "jump". "You do have jump training, right?" The Lieutenant said, eying Tyler.

"Yeah, we do." Michael said, eying Tyler as well. "Keep going, sir."

"Right." The Lieutenant murmured. "Anyways, your job is to destroy the airbase, or at least sabotage the fuel cannisters and triple-a gun batteries; Whatever keeps on downing our planes. After that, head west and re-group with the British."

"Sounds easy 'nough." Jacob said, amnicably. "Just a quick S & D job." He shrugged. Tyler shot a glare back at the Lance Corporal.

"How do you know it'll be so damn easy, Jacob?" Tyler said, staring the kid down. "They could have a whole damn Kampfgruppe waiting for us down there." He turned his attention slowly back to the Lieutenant, who was watching the exchange with a look of facination. "Is there anything else to discuss, sir?" The LT shook his head. "Are we dismissed then, sir?"

"Uh-huh." The LT replied, a tad slowly. "Get some rest-you leave tonight at two-two thirty hours, and should be out of the plane at midnight on the dot." Tyler paled a little again at the mention of the drop, but managed to keep his composure. He stood with a swallow, and so with him the rest of the squad. They snapped a quick salute, and then left without another word.

-  
Two hours, sixty miles, and seven thousand feet above sea level later, the drone of a B-17 filled Tyler's ears. The helmet he work focused the sound into a tinny whine. At that moment, he couldn't have been any more jealous of Jacob and his cap. His knuckles were taut, white from the ferocity of his grip against the chair beneath him. Not for the first time he wondered why they couldn't have gotten an actual transport plane for this. _Hell, I would have preferred fuckin' walking_. Out from the cockpit leaned the pilot. "Be ready to jump, guys!" He shouted over the engines. "One minute to the drop!" Tyler clenched his teeth at the mention of the fall ahead of him, but nodded all the same. One could say many things about pilots, but Tyler'd be damned before saying that Captain Harry Birke didn't get you there on time. The plane shuddered violently, and Tyler clenched himself to the chair, barely holding on. Michael patted him on the shoulder.

"You okay, sarge?" The corpsman asked. Tyler nodded.

"Yeah, I'm fuckin' brilliant." He shook his head. "Six thousand feet above the-" Tyler froze dead in his tracks. The whine between his ears had suddenly stopped. In fact, it seemed like the entire airplane had fallen silent. "Hey." He said, quietly. "Hey, where'd the engines go?" In the cockpit came the sound of alarm and panic. Unnatural blue sparks flashed from the canopy, bright and totally out of place inside the bomber. Harry rounded the opening, parachute half-way on.

"We've been hit!" He screamed.

"What?" Jakob said, surprised. "I didn't hear anything go off!"

"Engines are gone, electronics are dead, and the radio is out!" Harry replied, his voice a near-panic. "We're going down!" Tyler stood up, ramrod straight.

"Now what do we do?" He screamed at the pilot. Harry looked back at him, already standing by the door out of the bomber in a jump position.

"You jump and get the hell off this bird, sir!" Harry yelled. "She's coming in too damn fast-if you want to get out of this alive, it's gonna have to be now!" He saluted quickly, and then bailed. Tyler poked his head out the window and saw several other parachutists appear from the plane. Now, it was just Tyler and his team aboard the rapidly accelerating bird. Tyler began slowly making his way to the cockpit.

"What the hell are you doing, Sarge?" Stephen yelled. "The plane doesn't work!"

"Hydrolics aren't electrical!" Tyler shouted, the scream of an accelerating plane beginning to fill the air. "I can try to steady the bitch out long enough for you guys to get off this!" He flashed them a thumbs up. "Now get outta here!" Tyler did not hear or see the response rom the others, as he was already pulling on the stick as hard as he could. The plane pulled back, somehow stabilizing-by some miracle, the hydrolics still worked. Looking back, only Mike remained aboard the bomber. "Get going!" Tyler shouted.

"Not until you get up here too!" The corporal shouted back. "Get over here!" Tyler pulled the stick up one last time, and quickly made his way over to Michael.

"Just! Fucking! Jump!" Tyler shouted as loud as he could, and shoved the Corporal out. His own momentum carried him out as well, and the ground roared to meet him. Every terrifying moment of falling flashed to the forefront of his mind, and Tyler screamed like a man possessed. A flailing hand caught the parachute release, and a jarring shudder told him that the 'chute had opened. The B-17 continued its slow way down, passing over Tyler's head in an almost graceful manner. Somehow, though, Tyler knew he'd hit the ground first. As he approached the ground, he tried to see his other teammates, but all he could see were abandoned parachutes. The landing was rough, sliding on the gravel on his knees. Before he could cut the wires connecting him to the parachute, a sudden strong gust dragged him painfully across the airfield, the 'chute dragging him behind like some discarded marrionette. Sliding past a hanger, Tyler squinted his eyes-it looked like a little girl was standing by the edge, poking her head out to look at the Sergeant. He blinked once, and the vision was gone. The chute continued to drag Tyler across the ground, rocks buffeting an already bruised body. Finally the chute hooked onto something, and the sergeant came to a stop outside of a large concrete bunker. "About time." Tyler muttered, cutting himself loose. Standing up, he groaned as he workd out some of the new-found kinks. Some movement caught his eye-something was moving in the fog, the grey mist ominously spreading across the field. Tyler pulled out his M1911 and dropped to a crouch, praying that it wasn't a guard. Someone behind Tyler shouted something in alarm, and Tyler turned to see the downed B-17 hurtling towards him.

"Oh, fuck me!" Tyler yelled, turning and sprinting as fast as he could towards the bunker. Tyler's knees ached with every footfall, but he did not stop-to slow down, even for a second, would mean a gory and sudden death. The screach of metal against the earth filled the air, growing louder as it got closer and closer. Suddenly Tyler lost his footing and toppled onto the gravel below. His pistol skidded away from his hands as he hit the ground, hard. He closed his eyes and crumpled into a fetal position as the roar became overpowering... And then stopped. The sergeant coughed, then opened his eyes, surprised on his continuing existance. The bomber had buried what was left of itself into the ground just behind Tyler, flames coming from where sparks had caught fuel. Thankfully, none of it was anywhere near the marine. Tyler tried to move, but a lance of white-hot pain made him cry out. Slowly sitting up, he eyed his left leg. A heavy piece of metal lay over it, preventing him from moving his leg. "Mike?" He hissed, calling quietly for help. "Jake? Stephen?" Silence answered him. "Anyone?" He called. Something moved in the fog.

Tyler peered into the mist as best as he could, trying to see who was in the opaqe wall of fog. He couldn't make out who it was, other than it was human. Something rang as wrong in the marine's mind, something about the way it was moving. Most importantly though was that it was _running_. It was unsteady on its' feet, almost unsteady about the fact that it was moving. "Stop!" Tyler shouted, panic creeping into his voice. He began fumbling around him for his M1911. More shapes appeared in the fog behind it, a practical army. "Oh my God." He whispered. The glint of metal caught his eye-the '1911 was only a few feet away. He stretched for the weapon, but just couldn't reach it. "Oh God!" He started shouting, trying to grab the gun. He leaned back, and suddenly it was upon him, in its terrible glory.

It wore the uniform of a SS officer, the 'Totenkopf', or 'Dead Head' literally, still buttoned on its' lapel, soiled by dust and dirt. A worn Nazi armband on its' right arm was worn and almost in rags. Its' flesh was grey, the memory of blood long forgotten by the tissue and veins. In some areas both skin and muscle were parted to reveal bones shining pale grey in the moonlight. It's face was a mess, ancient bloodstains brown against dark red muscle and palor flesh. Its' mouth gnawed on the air, but it did not seem to be breathing. Finally, and most terribly of all, were the eyes. They _shined _like spotlights, maws of terrible yellow light that threatened to suck any observer's soul inside. By all rights, what Tyler was looking at _was dead_. But there the monster was, defying nature as it slacked its jaw and moaned something far from human. Tyler's own scream blended with the sound, a cacophany of terror. Then something cracked.

The monster stopped dead, reeling from an unseen impact. With horor, Tyler noticed that a bullet wound had appeared on the thing's chest, but it did not bleed. It roared in reply, a sound no human could create, defiantly pronouncing that it would not fall. More cracks came from behind Tyler, the familiar sound of nearby gunfire. The thing staggered with every hit, but did not fall until one final crack rang out. A hole appeared on the monster's head, and its' pupilless eyes went a cool white as it slumped forwards onto the ground. Tyler looked behind him to see Michael, a look of mixed terror and determination upon his face. He nodded at the sergeant. "Okay, you're good." He said, somehow calm in all of this. "Can you walk?" Tyler could feel the oppresive weight on his leg being lifted as Stephen and Jack grunted in their work.

"Yeah, hand me my gun." Tyler said, slowly getting to his feet. "What the fuck was that thing?"

"Later, Sarge." Mike replied. "We need to hunker down somewhere." He turned to face the concrete bunker behidnthem. "That'll do. I clocked an entrance on the other side-come on!" The moans of a hundred more beasts behind Tyler cried out at once from the fog. Limping at first, Tyler made his way down the embankment to the left of the bunker, careful not to trip.

"Waiddaminute." Tyler said after he had reached the bottom. "What about all the Krauts?" Mike grimaced.

"The place is empty, Ty." He shuddered. "From what I'm thinking, those things _were_ the Krauts."

-  
Harry had been unconcious since the parachute had snagged on one fot he forest's many trees. Screams and inhuman moans haunted the pilot's dreams, until a crash snapped his eyelids open. Slowly his brain caught up with the situation, and he sighed, defeated. Below him lay some branches, then the ground a good few feet below that. _Damn, _Harry thought. Grabbing his knife, he set about trying to cut himself loose. The work was long and tedious, but finalyl the last cable seperated and Harry fell onto the branches. Slowly he worked his way down to the ground, and sighed to have something solid beneath his feet. "Okay," he muttered, "now what?" Something rustled to answer. Harry lowered into a crouch, and readied his .45 caliber M1911-he was behind enemy lines, after all. What came out from the underbrush was far from what he expected.

It wore the jacket of a bomber crewman, and by the face Harry wagered it was Frank, one of the dorsal gunners. It had been damned difficult to pick the face out though-Frank's face had been savaged, and his eyes-_its'_ eyes, some part of Harry's brain corrected-were not human. They glowed yellow in the dark forest. A primal instinct began screaming in the back of Harry's mind, and he began to back away, gun remained pointed at the thing's head. "Frank?" Harry asked. The thing that wore Frank's face did not answer outside of an inhuman yelp. "Frank, is that you?" 'Frank' lunged, trying to grab Harry. He jumped away, and without another thought lined up his pistol at the glowing eyes and fired. His shaky aim failed him, though, and the round went wild in the night, only grazing 'Frank's' skull. It stared back, and for a moment Harry could swear it was smiling at him. "Oh, fuck this!" Harry yelled, and sprinted into the forests. 'Frank' set off after him, yelling somethign thatw as an almost-word. Harry went left, right, and up over brancehs and tress, but the beast kept coming, undeterred.

Suddenly Harry bumped into something wearing a _Luftwaffe_ jacket draped over him. He turned, and eyed the monster chasing Harry. "_Schnell!_" The man shouted in German, leveling the MP-40 in his hands. The gun chattered over Harry's head as he threw himself to the floor. The thing that looked like Frank staggered, then collapsed to the ground, a disappointed moan from its' lips. The eyes faded to white, and Harry slowly got up.

"Is it dead?" He asked. Then he noticed the German uniform. "_Tot_?" He repeated in German.

"_Ja_, it's dead." The man replied in English. "_Amerikaner_?" He asked.

"Yeah, I'm American." Harry replied. At this moment, he had forgotten about the war. The fresh corpse on the ground was far more pressing at the moment. "But what was that?" He shuddered at the fresh memory of the yellow eyes. The German eyed him coldly.

"_Untoten._" He stated, matter-of-factly. "Undead."

-  
The iron gate lay open, a padlock abandoned on the floor. "Okay, get inside, assholes!" Tyler yelled moving the gate closer to the locked position. As the last marine filed inside, Tyler slammed it behind him and affixed the padlock onto it. At the moment, he did not care that he had no key-if he had to leave, he could shoot it at any time. Tyler sighed, relieved. "Okay, we all here?"

"Yeah, that's all of us." Stephen answered. "What the hell was that thing?"

"I dunno, man, I don't know." Jacob replied. "It had a Kraut uniform on, though."

"Maybe some kind of superweapon?" Stephen thought out-loud.

"Nah, they wouldn't test something on themselves. They can't afford to waste men." Michael drummed his fingers against crossed arms. "They looked look they've been dead for a while, maybe a good week?"

"Didn't this place fall off the grid a week ago?" Stephen asked.

"Yeah," Tyler said, raising his pistol. "I don't like this." The room they were in was a mess. Debris littered the floor, and fires burned in improvised sites. An overturned file cabinet caught the Marine's eye, but the chalk writing on the wall was even more fascinating. It was in large print, but written in German, just after a blocked Stairway. "What do you think-" Tyler stopped midsentence as the characters vanished like dusk, only to return a second later in English. Chalk outlines of weapons appeared on the wall, wooden boards affixed themselves to openings to the outside, and a sudden strong gust of wind filled the room with cold air. Something _laughed_, inhuman but clearly different from the sounds outside. Something was _toying_ with them, Tyler suddenly realized. The echo faded, leaving only four terrified marines there to wonder what had just happened.

"What the-" Stephen started, his face pale. "What the fuck just happened?"

"I don't know man." Jacob replied, repeating what was becoming the catch-all for the night. "Was that laughter?"

"Had to be, but it wasn't coming from outside." Michael answered. "It sounded like it was coming from right next to me." He added with a shudder. Tyler nodded in agreement. "I didn't clock any clowns on the way down, sarge."

"What the hell are we dealing with?" Tyler asked, only to be answered by a never-ending silence. He grimaced. "Alright, this shit isn't going to change anything. Stay focused and watch a window-that's where they'll come from." Stephen nodded and walked to the very end of the room.

"I've got a window down here!" Stephen yelled. Jacob, inseperable from his buddy, followed him down the empty bunker.

"I've got the other." He replied, solemn. Michael moved to a window underneath the cryptic writing.

"'You Must Ascend from Darkness'." Michael read aloud as he checked the window before him and the one behind him. "Wonder if that means anything."

"Maybe, Tyler answered, watching dead ahead at the one window left. "I'm sure we'll find out soon enough." He sighed and raised his pistol. "Get your gun up-those ghouls are gonna be here any second now." The faint forms of movement in the fog became mroe distinct, and Tyler clicked off the safety.

-  
The German and Harry eyed each other, and their weapons, warily. "Who are you?" The German asked in gruff English. Harry paused before answering.

"Captain Harry Burke, USAAF." Harry took especial pride that he had remembered not to mention his unit, until he noticed the man was eying his shoulder with a sarcastic glare. Harry flushed as he remembered that the Eight Army Air Force patch remained affixed to his right left arm. "And you?" He asked, trying to deflect the question, and the stare.

"Rudolf Lange, Sergeant." Hesighed. "I was from the airbase back there-" Rudolf gestured with a shrug, "-but that doesn't matter any more." He eyed Harry coldly. "I'm the only one who's left." The pilot blinked, surprised.

"What?" He hissed. Rudolf looked at the corpse behind Hary.

"That thing? My entire unit was killed by them." He affixed Harry with a dead stare. "Then they came back." Harry blinked, surprised.

"'Came back'?" Harry asked, primal fear working its' way down his spine.

"They would die, but then after a few seconds their eyes would turn yellow, and they would try to kill people who were their friends a minute ago." Rudolf said, in a flat tone. He was desensitized to the affair, Harry realized. "I am afraid that is what happened to your compatriot, Captain." Harry shook his head, denying the suggestion and all the impossibility that came with it. The events of the day, however, were far more tangible that the laws of reality as Harry knew them.

"What you're talking about is impossible!" Harry said back. "People don't just die and come back!"

"Look at your friend, Captain Burke." Rudolf said, gesturing again to the corpse on the floor. Harry turned and jumped back in surprise as the body began to shine with an inner glow. Dim yellow light shone from its' eyes, mouth, and the bullet holes Rudolf had created, before the whole thing vanished like dust in the wind. "You kill one, and that is what happens." He looked Harry firmly in the eye, his hands grasping the Captain by the arms. "This must be difficult to grasp, but if you want to survive tonight you must understand that the dead _are_ walking, and if we do not get moving, they will find and kill us." Harry nodded slowly.

"Alright, you've made your damn point." He sighed, then reached into his heavy bomber jacket for a map. "Alright, let's see..." He pulled out a compass as well and compared the two against each other for a few seconds. Then he looked up and to the left, deeper into the forest. "If we head that way for roughly a mile and a half, we should be out of the forest and at British lines."

"We'll be safe there." Rudolf said, sure of himself. "They don't leave the forest. If we make it out, we'll be okay." Harry nodded and put the stuff away. Something moaned in the darkness.

"Dammit, we better get moving." Harry muttered. He started to head off into the forest. "By the way," the pilot said in passing, "you have good English." Rudolf paused, and eyed Harry oddly.

"English?" He said, puzzlement in his tone. "I was going to say the same of your German."

-  
The first beast that appeared did not have nearly as formal a uniform as the one that had come before it. It was _Luftwaffe_, Tyler thought, his brain detached from the fight. _Probably belonged to the crewmembers who worked here. _He paused, thinking that over. _What happened here?_ Tyler thought as he lined up a shot at the ghoul's yellow eyes. He grimaced, suddenly determined. _I may not know what created these things, but I'll be damned if I don't know how to kill it_. He gently squeezed the trigger, and the .45 caliber pistol cracked as the gunpowder ignited and the bullet came out with a super-sonic boom. The monster took the round to its' mottled forehead, and crumpled to the floor like a discarded marionette. The bullet had hit the skin, passed through the weakened necrotic bone, and then splintered upon entering the brain. The ghoul's eye turned blank white, and it moaned one last time as it died yet again. Tyler shuddered-this was a far cry from killing a man, the pain of the world gone forever to their eyes. Tyler took no pleasure in the deed, but took comfort that the man he had killed would not in turn kill someone he knew, someone he had grown to care for as comrades in arms. These things were different though. They moved wrong, as if they had forgotton how to and were just learning again. They spoke in a tone that was not human, two voices mixed in one unnatural chorus. Worst of all were their eyes. They glowed like coals, coloured like the sun. There was no pupil, just an everlasting shine that was an endless maw. It was impossible to put a name to them, as Tyler had never seen their kind before. A voice in Tyler's ear faintly whispered "zombies". Tyler found no reason to argue what seemed like himself. The Walking Dead, powered not by a disease or through some Buck Roger villain's Gamma Radiation death machine, but by something far more insidious.

"At least a bullet stops 'em." Tyler muttered to himself. Another 'zombie' made its' way out of the fog, its' arms outstretched. It moved erratically, limping over on a mostly-useless leg. This shot would take a bit more precision, but Tyler had found the pattern-it would slow at the apex of its' gait, its' head held steady. As soon as it paused to finish its' walk, Tyler lined up and squeezed the trigger. The M1911 bucked, and the ghoul's head was pushed back with the impact, its' eyes looking skyward as it fell to the ground. To Tyler's left came the crackle of pistol fire, letting Tyler know that the fight was far from over on their end.

It had felt odd, that last kil. Some form of strange energy filled his being, as if he had gained stamina from every walking corpse taken down. It felt different than adrenaline, though, more like something new and alien to Tyler's body. Again, the thought of being toyed with flickered through his mind. _Oh, you managed to kill one?_Tyler imagined a haughty voice in his head. _I'll give you stamina, prevent you from falling on your ass._

_Gee, thanks, asshole._ Tyler thought in reply. The last moan of a zombie mixed with the last rattle of a pistol's rapport was followed by a long, lasting silence. "Is that it?" Stephen asked.

"Can't be." Mike replied. "There were thousands out there-they must be taking their sweet time."

"Let's take the time to plan this out, then." Tyler barked. "We're dealing with something that probably cannot hold weapons and can only hurt us then by getting right next to us." He looked at the room. "If they somehow get in, stay away from them and kill 'em best you can. Otherwise, we'll meet up in the middle and make a last stand."

"Don't think we'll need that, though." Jake said. "If they're that easy to kill, we'll be able to take 'em all down before they can get in."

"Watch your shooting, though-we can't afford to waste ammo on anything other than headshots." Tyler replied. "If they're anything like people, that's the best way to take them down." The room fell silent, and Tyler eyed them all. "That's all I've got to say." He noted, sullenly. Then he eyed the cabinet, left alone on the floor. "I'm going to see if we can't find something useful here." He paced over to the cabinet and righted it with a grunt. The dim green paint was caked with dust and blood. Tyler opened the cabinet's first door, and began picking through the manilla folders. None of them caught his eye, other than the fact that they were all now labeled in English. They all covered the usual stuff-airbase operations and military red tape. Then Tyler noticed something that was a tad different. "Group 935/Operation SHIELD" it read. Tyler gingerly lifted it from its' place and flipped through the three papers inside. The first was a brief memo stating that hte airfield had been selected to house a fraction of the prodcuts of "Group 935/Der Riese Re-Anim. Exp." It was by no stretch of the imagination that last two abbreviations stood for "reanimation experiments", though Group 935 remained an enigma. _So they were made? _Tyler thought as he changed papers. _By who? What is Group 935? And why would they make something that would kill their own team?_ The next paper did not shine any new information on that subject. It was a letter from one "Doctor E. Richtofen" about the installation of a powerful new "safety generator", as well as how it could be operated, as well as how it should be activated in case of an "outbreak", or the activation of "Operation Shield". Tyler paused at that. The outbreak was wide spread, and Tyler wondered if they had activated it in time. _It didn't save them, that's for sure._ He pocketed the papers, but before he could read the last document a moan rang out.

"Sarge, they're coming!" Stephen yelled.

"Got it!" Tyler yelled back, placing hte folder on top of the cabinet, the last document being crammed into his pockets in a tight wad. "Gotta love their timing..." He muttered as he headed for the firing line.

-  
The forest was barely lit by the moon-for the most part, the tress blocked the pale rays. It was half a blessing, half a curse. The good news was that the glowing of yellow eyes were far mroe pronounced in this lighting than out on the runway-or any open field, Harry added-but if a ghoul was facing the wrong way, one could run into it. Harry and Rudolf moved methodically, desperately trying to ensure that they owuld not have that incident occur. Any bush was a threat, however, and any tree was just a hiding place for an undead ambush. "How many of them are there, you think?" Harry whispered.

"The base crew was roughly a hundred men..." Rudolf started. "About a good few days in a paratrooper division moved in to help us, but they died like the rest. They had to have had a good thousand men. The final tally would be-"

"Over a thousand!" Harry answered for him, barely able to keep is voice at a hiss.

"Not all of them are at the forest, though." Rudolf murmured. "Your bomber made damn sure of that." Harry wasn't sure if that was a compliment or some kind of dig. In the wind came a faint, but unmistakable crackle.

"Is that gunfire?" Harry asked. Rudolf nodded.

"I didn't think anyone was alive." Rudolf noted, sullenly. "If they're at the airfield..." He trailed off. Harry was more impressed than the German was, though.

"Goddamn, are those Marines tough." He mused silently. Rudolf turned to look at him, confused. "I was supposed to drop off this Marine special forces team; that's why I was flying alone."

"Don't you have special planes for that?" Rudolf asked. Harry scoffed.

"Yeah, but since when has high command ever listened to a fly-boy?" Harry grimaced. Rudolf, however, had a flash of fear.

"This is very, very bad." He said, raising his MP-40. Harry eyed the weapon nervously, but didn't speak. "If those guys are still shooting, they'll attract the attention of every monster in the forest." He looked dead stragith at Harry. "That means they're headed our way right now." Harry saw something move behind Rudolf's shoulder. Something with yellow eyes.

"Correction-they've _headed _our way." Harry said, raising his pistol. Rudolf turned, surprised to see the ghoul standing there. It slacked its' jaw open, and cried something far less than human. Then it charged.

-  
**NEXT: **_The armies of the undead threaten both parties as the noose tightens. Both sides' salvation lay nearby, but can they adapt to the new rules, an impossible radio, and a mysterious box? Find out next time in _Chapter Two: **HELP**


	2. Chapter Two: HELP

**Note: **For rather unknown reasons, Fanfiction failed to let everyone know when I updated the first chapter. "Okay," you may be asking, "Why does this matter?" Because I've made some changes, of course. Big changes. I've changed characters, names, events, whatever works to make the first chapter far better than what you got, and closer to the expectations you have of me. So, read that first chapter over again before moving down here. Got it? Good. Read the after-note for more information on this run of the story, and what I plan to do in order to keep my interest, and yours, alive.

-  
Chapter Two: HELP

**LAST TIME:** _An abandoned airbase draws the attention of Allied Command, but things aren't as they seem. Now, the products of mysterious experiments hunt a Marine Recon Team and an unusual alliance between an American pilot and a German soldier. Both group's hope lie close by, but time is running short on this _Nacht der Untoten.

The moans and howls grew louder and louder as the horde came closer. "Sounds like a lot fucking more of them this time!" Jack shouted, his voice barely audible over the monsters outside.

"Here they come!" Tyler yelled, lining up on the first of three slowly making their way forwards. He pulled the trigger, the pistol roaring. The ghoul staggered as the .45 caliber bullet smacked into it, but it kept coming. _Holy shit, it took that well!_ He fired the pistol again, and prayed. The prayer was answered, as the round took the ghoul's skull with it. Despite the destruction the second bullet had wrought, Tyler could not ignore what was happening-They were getting tougher. "Fuck me." He muttered, switching to his next target. At this range, Tyler did not even need to aim, and shot by instinct. The M1911 cracked once, twice, and as Tyler switched to the next ghoul... click. Tyler turned beet red as he thumbed the release for the clip, which clattered on the floor. "Shit." He muttered as out of the corner of his eye he saw the zombie get closer. "Shit. Shit!" Finally he slid the new seven-round clip into the breach, and loaded the first .45 caliber round into the barrel, but it was too late. The monster had reached the barricade, and with a moan tore off one of the rotten wooden planks. Tyler stared at the ghoul with hatred. "Bad move, asshole." The pistol came up and cracked twice, a perfect double-tap. His window clear, Tyler sighed and looked at the discarded plank. "Goddammit." He muttered, frustrated. He looked around, trying to find a way to get at it, but it was a waste of time-even if he could grab it, he'd need nails to put it back in place. "Be careful not to let the fucks take out the barrier; we can't get them back in place." Nods let him know that he had been heard. Absent-mindedly, he laid his hand against the barrier. _Damn, I wish I could fix this thing._ The instant that the thought finished, the ghostly sound of hammers filled the air. The discarded wooden plank jumped to life, and re-affixed itself to the barrier. Tyler jumped back, surprised.

"What the hell was that?" Michael shouted behind him, eyeing both the wall and the Sergeant oddly. "Did you see what I just saw?" Tyler slowly nodded. He slowly approached the barrier, and laid his hand tentatively against the plank that had come to life. He gave it a hard push, trying to see if it had truly affixed itself to the wall. The plank did not budge, and stubbornly refused to move.

"I'll be damned." Tyler murmured. "The thing's back on. Nails are fine, doesn't look damaged at all." He ran his hand through his hair. _What the hell am I dealing with? _

-  
The ghoul charged, mouth wide open. Rudolf stared it down, and pulled the trigger of his MP-40 Sub Machine gun. The gun clattered as the small pistol rounds slammed into the monster. The zombie staggered, then fell backwards. Only six spare shells lay on the ground, no more, no less. Harry gave Rudolf a thumbs-up in appreciation. "You keep on saving my ass, man; thanks." Rudolf eyed him, a tad harshly.

"Be more aware of where you are, and understand you have the weapons. All you need is to control your fear out here, and act on instinct." Rudolf answered, plainly. "You'll learn fast out here, though."

"I'd better." Harry murmured. "Gunfire isn't going to help us here, right?" Rudolf nodded.

"Tyy're sensative to motion and to sound, especially so for sound." Rudolf explained. "If we're to avoid more, we'll need to move fast away from here." He turned left and started heading deeper into the forest.

"That's the wrong way!" Hharry said, surprised. Rudolf paused for only a moment.

"The straight way will take you through over a hundred monsters. We got this way, and we spoof 'em." A not-so-distant howl was all Harry needed to follow the German. A thought occured to Harry.

"Hey, you've been here for weeks. Why haven't you just made your way alone to our lines?" Harry saked, keeping close behind Rudolf.

"They've been sending patrols in roughly every two days." Rudolf replied. "I don't think any made it back out again. At least with you, I won't be shot on sight." Harry nodded, the pieces falling into place.

"Right, makes sense-they'll think you've been killing 'em." Harry said. "Do you ever try to-"

"Help them?" Rudolf finished, going around a thick oak trunk. "I do what I can, but they always forge too far ahead. It'd be a miracle if anyone made it out of here." Harry looked back at the airfield, the sound of gunfire gone. _I wonder if those bastards are still alive back there._

-  
A sense of growing paranoia was beginning to appear in the back of Tyler's mind. Everything seemed to suddenly have a hidden effect. What would help? More importantly, what would hurt? Tyler know one thing for certain, though-the barriers could be repaired by holding a palm against the damaged planks. Tyler didn't rightly know whether or not anyone else could do it, but given that a new and stronger horde was coming, they'd find it out soon enough. Something in the fog moaned. _Speak of the devil, _Tyler's fatigued brain thought. "They're back!" He shouted.

"Got it!" Stephen shouted in reply. "Stubborn, aren't they?" He sighed. Michael looked at Tyler, perplexion on his face.

"Hey, Ty?" He asked.

"What?" Tyler shouted back. "It's gonna be real busy in about two seconds, so talk fast!" Michael pointed at an odd chalk outline on the wall next to Tyler.

"Why does that look like a rifle?" He asked, grimacing. "The outline, I mean." Tyler leaned over and looked at it.

"Odd, I don't think that was there when we came in." Tyler frowned. "I wonder..." He trailed off, then headed over to it.

"What're ya gonna do?" Mike asked.

"Same thing I did with the barrier." Tyler replied, placing his hand on the outline. Suddenly Tyler doubled over-it felt like someone had slammed him in the solar plexus. Images, thoughts, memories, and diagrams flashed through his mind, rifling through his brain impossibly fast. Something heavy appeared in his hands.

"Tyler!" Michael shouted, running over to him. Meekly, Tyler raised his hand to show he was okay.

"I'm fine, Mike." He groaned, then realized that he was holding onto something. There it lay, with polished wood and steel, a clip already loaded and several more mixed into Tyler's webbing, a Kar 98k. The two Marines gaped at it, fascinated.

"That's impossible." Michael murmured. Behind him came Stephen and Jack, concern etched on their faces.

"What's impossible?" Stephen asked a second before noticing the chalk outline, and then the weapon in Tyler's hands. "Holy shit."

"I know." Tyler replied. "Just put your hand on the outline and it'll come out." He stood up uncertainly. "It'll hurt like hell for a second, but after that you should be good." He readied the rifle in his hand as the other three slowly acquired their own weapons. When they were all armed, they silently went back to their posts. Tyler and Michael exchanged a final glance before focusing on the new wave. _This keeps on getting weirder _ Tyler thought. _Are we being toyed with? Or is there a way out that someone wants us to stay around long enough to find?_ For the moment, that question would be left unanswered. In the meantime, however, the first zombie approached. Tyler sighted up on it with the Karbiner's iron sights the metal glistening in the pale moonlight, then gently squeezed the trigger. The rifle bucked, and the heavy round went straight through the thing's skull. It collapsed in a whimper, and for the first time that night Tyler grinned. No longer would he use the small, under-powered M1911. From here on out, he'd be using heavy firepower. The next ghoul came into view, and the sergeant smiled like the Cheshire cat. "Boo." He whispered, then fired.

-  
The sharp crack of rifle fire was unmistakable in the silence. Rudolf stopped, and mouthed a word silently. "Those are German rifles." He said, finally. "But who would be using them?" Harry shrugged.

"The Marines, I guess. I think their guns went down with the bomber, so now they're improvising." Harry replied. "Does it matter?" Rudolf shrugged.

"Might draw more away from us, but I'm just guessing for all I know." He stopped short and raised his MP-40. Three shapes appeared in the mist, points of white light where their eyes ought to be. "Ready?" He asked. Harry nodded. He went down on one knee, but steadied the pistol and his aim. The instant the first zombie noticed Rudolf, Harry fired. The ghoul staggered, the roar of the pistol loud, its' muzzle flash bright. Rudolf suddenly tensed, then pointed into the fog. Dozens of new figures appeared in the night, encircling them in a perfect ring of the damned. Harry blinked, a sudden flash of recognition-this all seemed like some strange form of air combat, like several fighters attacking a bomber at once. If the bomber was to have any hope in hell, it'd have to break out before all the fighters could close in at once and destroy it. Here, if they were to have any chance of survival, they'd have to break through before the noose tightened.

"Run." Harry said, softly.

"What?" Rudolf turned around, surprised.

"Run!" Harry shouted, and grabbed the Luftwaffe man by the arm. Before Rudolf could do anything, Harry was sprinting forwards, with him in tow. Harry charged the zombie right in front of him, and raised his pistol. He started shooting at it, pockmarking the ghoul with nasty wounds that did not bleed. The zombie stubbornly refused to die again until Harry careened through it and crushed its head open with his boot underfoot. Rudolf pulled out his MP-40 and started to spray rounds wildly as he ran with the American. The zombies behind the two runners began to hobble after them... Then began to sprint.

"Son of a bitch!" Rudolf panted, still shooting. "They're running now?" Harry barely heard him over the moans of dozens of pissed-off ghouls. His heart was pounding, and Harry was hyperventilating, but he somehow did not feel tired-just terrified. Rudolf cussed behind him as he reloaded the MP-40 as best as he could. "Harry, let go of my arm!" Rudolf shouted. Harry didn't even notice. "Harry!" Rudolf shouted again, to no response. Harry ran as if he knew where he was going, like the course was imprinted in his mind. He knew where to go, even if he didn't know where "where" was.

-  
The Kar 98 was a zombie-hunter's wet dream. It had an immense round, the Mauser 7.92x57mm, mixed with a 600 mili-meter barrel for extreme accuracy Tyler was already the weapon's biggest fan since its creators had designed it in 1898. While trying to hunt something that moved as erratically as a ghoul with a bolt-action rifle wasn't exxtremely easy, the high-caliber rounds rewarded you for your accuracy. Tyler had gained incredible knowledge of the weapon since he had "purchased" it, a rush of memory and thought. With all the minuinte details came tactics, how to use the gun property and play off its strengths. Every shot had to count, or otherwise Tyler would be wasting both time and ammunition. He took a knee on the cold concrete floor and carefully lined up the rifle's iron sights at the approaching zombie's glowing eyes. Then, he gently pulled the trigger. The Kar 98 roared as the Mauser round screamed from the barrel in a puff of gun-smoke The round careened through the ghoul's skull at the base of the nose, and the monster was thrown backwards with the impact. Tyler pulled back the bolt and let the spare cartridge fall to the ground, tinkling like a bell. To Tyler's left came the roar of more rifles as they fired upon the enemies at their gates.

Stubbornly the dead kept coming, marching forwards slowly. Tyler almost recognized their gait as something one could see a sleep-walker doing, but their eyes were open and they moved with awareness. Tyler lined upon yet another, and pulled the trigger again. The rifle cracked, taking yet another ghoul to the floor. Then, as if someone had closed the flood-gates, the horde stopped. Tyler let out a tensed breath, then noticed belatedly that the five-round "stripper clip" was empty. Grumbling, he pulled teh bolt back all the way and let the clip spring out. He grabbed the next one out of his pocket and slid it into the weapon, then threw the bolt back forwards, arming it. The task finished, Tyler looked around at the others.

"The rifles are working pretty well." Michael noted.

"That won't last forever." Tyler replied. "We need a back-up plan." He looked behind him at a cast iron door, closed, lit by a dim fire. Scrawled on it was an unfinished "Help". "We could try to breach that door." Tyler said.

"Yeah, maybe." Stephen said, pacing over to the Sergeant. "Something tells me we need to 'purchase' this in order for it to open." Tyler nodded grimly. "What do you think is in there?" Tyler shrugged.

"Could be survivors, corpses, or ghouls." He said. "We'll have to open it to see."

"Bette rnow than later, Sarge." Jacob muttered, taking his place next to his buddy. "Now we don't have anything trying to kill us." Tyler nodded, a sense of dread coming from the other side of the door. Slowly, he approached and placed his palm on the door. Something punched him again, but this time it didn't hurt nearly as bad. The door slid open with a creak, and Tyler quickly readied himself for an assault... But nothing came. Slowly Tyler moved into the room, his squad-mates behind him. The room was empty and dark, with only a lamp to illuminate the large room. The marine's foot kicked against something heavy, and he looked down. An american helmet lay on the floor, abandoned and discarded by its owner. Leaning over, he picked it up and looked at a marking on the back.

"McCain." It read. "Peter."

-  
The spring seemed endless as Harry and Rudolf wove their way through the forest and around trees. Finally the pilot stopped, exhausted. Behind them, the moans faded away in the night. "Are you-" Rudolf said in-between fast breaths. "-Are you quite finished?" Harry weakly nodded. "So, great and fearless explorer, where in the hell are we?" All Harry could do was shrug.

"I don't work here, Rudolf." Harry replied. "Does this corner ring any bells?" But it was Rudolf's turn to not answer. "Rudolf?" He asked, turning to look behind him. Some inconsolable look of terror was plastered on the German's face.

"I know this place." He whispered. Suddenly he set off through the forest in a sprint. Harry chased after him, trying to find the end of yet another dash in the dark. This sprint was far shorter, and infinitely more focused than the last. Harry found Rudolf stopped dead, staring at a small house. It was a stereo typical German home, well-kept and made of different colours of wood. However, the idealistic appearance was a mask, hiding a terrible truth. There were no lights inside, and the front door had been torn asunder, lying abandoned and ajar near the entrance. Whatever had happened here was bad. Harry shot a sideways glance at Rudolf, and saw the horrified look on his face. Worse, Harry saw guilt begin to creep into the mask of terror.

"What happened here, man?" Harry asked, softly. Rudolf did not answer for what seemed a long time. Even when he did answer, is face was frozen in the same position.

"This is my fault." He replied. "This my home, Harry."

-  
Tyler felt like the name on the helmet had been tattooed to his eyelids. The rest of the squad was looking over his shoulder, reading it along with the sergeant. "Why the hell is this here?" Stephen asked in a mutter.

"Its certainly not from a German soldier." Michael observed. "But Stephen's got a point-why _is_ it here?" Tyler shook his head.

"Christ, I don't know." Tyler replied, gingerly putting the helmet down. He looked around the room. Large weight-bearing columns broke up the walking space, and Tyler saw two routes into the room aside from the main entrance Not far away from him was a stairway, cluttered and blocked by debris. The lamp Tyler had noticed while walking in illuminated a small radio, as well as a large wooden crate laying abandoned on the floor. Maybe it was the events of the night getting to him, but the Marine could swear the box seemed to _glow._ "At least there's a radio in here." Tyler muttered, and started to pace towards it. "I wonder if it-" A sudden blue spark came from the radio, and Tyler jumped back surprised. "Holy..." He trailed off when the radio played a snippet of a song, then screeched as if it was wounded. Then it crackled, and a single voice began to come from it.

"Check your pockets." The radio said, a young girl's voice emitting from the speakers. Tyler blinked, startled. _Can't be talking about me, _He thought, uncertainly. _Can it?_ "Check your pockets." The voice repeated.

"Who the hell is that?" Jacob asked. "What's a little girl doing on the radio?" Michael looked at Tyler.

"Check your pockets, Ty." He said, grim. "You were looking at those papers, after all." Tyler slowly nodded, his eyes wide from the shock. Slowly he pulled out the third paper, his hands trembling.

"Read it out loud, please." The radio asked kindly. Tyler nodded, and looked at the paper.

"To all instillations housing Group Nine-Three-Five equipment." Tyler started. The voice on the radio inhaled sharply at the mention of the name. "From Doctor H. Yena, Chief Mechanical Engineering and Design, Group Nine-Three-Five."

"The 'H' stands for 'Henry', by the way." The radio added, eagerly. Stephen looked at Jacob, surprised.

"I thought only Krauts worked on this." Stephen whispered.

"I think we don't know shit about these guys." Jacob replied. "Keep going, Sarge." Tyler nodded, some confidence returning to him.

"The date's from a year or two ago." Tyler added with a frown. "Got smudged up somehow..." He shrugged. "It doesn't seem like anything more than a mass-produced memo." Moving on, Tyler's eyes jumped to the next line. "Reason is 'A Basic Overview of the U-3 'Shield' Device'."

"Keep reading." The voice urged. Tyler nodded, but questions began to appear in his mind. _Wasn't 'Shield' some kind of Operation that Richtofen guy was involved in?_ It was, by no jump in Tyler's logic, corrolated somehow. It also was, more likely than not, an operation that had failed.

"To the base commander," Tyler read. "No doubt by now you have recieved the first shipment of equipment nd such that is being spread across the world. While the reasoning behind this act is confidential, not only by the group's standards but by your own military's, understand that by doing this the chance fo catastrophic event is less likely." The voice on the radio scoffed, but did not speak. Tyler couldn't help but share her sentiment. "This document has been sent to prepare you for a new device that will act as a safety measure in case of such an event. It is known as the 'U-3 Safety Field Generator', but will be referred to by its' nickname, the 'Shield'. The 'Shield' projects a powerful electro-magnetic field-" Tyler shrugged at the phrase "-that disables all electronics that enters in a certain radius." Tyler looked up.

"Electronics went down when we were in the bomber-makes sense if we flew into it." Michael noted. Tyler nodded, then went back to the paper.

"The field acts as a magnet to anything that uses or runs on Element One-Fifteen, effectively preventing a massive-scale outbreak from occuring."

"Skip to the last paragraph." The radio asked. Tyler found no reason to argue, and went to the bottom.

"Should an outbreak occur, your primary objective is to control it through conventional means. However, should all else fail, destroy the Shield. Tests have revealed that such an event will..." Tyler trailed off.

"Why did you stop?" The girl in the radio asked. Tyler pocketed the document before answering.

"The rest of it's gone, either burned off or torn. I can't tell." Tyler replied. "I get the gist, though."

"Destroy the Shield will cause all of the One-One-Five atoms to decompose." The girl said, sounding far more educated than she should have. "Anything that uses it to work, or to live-" The voice let that word hang in the air "-simply won't work anymore."

"Destroy the Shield, kill all the zombies." Tyler said, a plan forming. "But where's the Shield? And furthemore, who _are_ you?"

"Not now, American." The voice replied. "Right now, I want you to open that box."

-  
Rudolf moved in a daze towards the home, Harry watching him nervously. The German was in shock, and Harry was looking for any "danger signs" that would indicate that Rudolf was about to do something... unexpected. "Rudolf, you okay?" Harry asked. Rudolf did not answer, still moving closer to the house one step at a time. Harry somehow knew that if something lay ahead, something dangerous, Rudolf would not be able to fight back. Harry ran ahead and reached the door in.

The room ahead of him was dark and foreboding. Harry could see nothing inside. "Hello?" He called into the house. Silence answered him. Reaching into a pcoket, Harry pulled out a match and lit it. The scene inside was grim, but somethign felt very odd. Yes, there was some blood on the wall, but the bodies in the room were missing, only piles of dust where ghouls had once been. The scene was illuminated in Harry's mind-the monsters attacked, injured some poor bastard, but were fought off. Rudolf's family, if that was who lived here, may still yet be alive. Rudolf appeared behind him, and Harry turned to face him. "I know it looks bad." Harry said, clapsing the German by his shoulders and peering into the man's dark eyes. "But all the bodies in here are zombies. I don't see your family or anything in there-they might still be alive." Harry took great care not to give the man too much hope, but the reaction was just as positive as if he had confirmed their safety. Rudolf blinked, the daze gone from his eyes.

"What?" He asked. A giddy smile drew across his face. "They're okay?"

"So far as I can tell, they skiddadled." Harry replied, honestly. "They may have made it to the Brits." Rudolf nodded in agreement.

"We're not far away form the edge of the forest." Rudolf stated. His face darkened. "I can't believe I forgot about home."

"Don't beat yourself up." Harry replied. "You're damn lucky that you worked so close to here. It must have slipped your-" Something in the fog moaned menacingly. "They've caught up with us."

"Upstairs." Rudolf said, readying his MP-40. "Now." Harry nodded, and took off up the wooden stairs. The second floor was as grim as the first, but Harry still found no corpses, just more dust leading up to a door. Opening it, he found a makeshift barricade left abandoned, no blood anywhere to be found. _Hot damn, they must have got away somehow._ Harry thought. He eyed an open window and a makeshift zipcord leading out the hole. _Son of a bitch._ He thought, walking closer. On closer inspection, Harry could see that the wire stretched out a few dozen meters away-well in safe distance from a horde.

"Clever bastards!" Harry muttered in astonishment and praise. Unfortunately for those left behind, no home-made harnasses or zipcords remained. Rudolf stormed up the stairs behind Harry.

"I've barricaded the way up, but they'll be through it soon." Harry nodded. Suddenly, inspiration hit the pilot. He walked over to a closet and started rifling through it. "What the hell are you doing?" Rudolf asked, miffed. This _was_ his house, after all. Harry triumphantly pulled out two wooden coat-hangers.

"Finding us a way out." He said, a grin plastered on his face.

-  
Tyler tentatively reached down to the box and flipped up the latch. The lid flew open, yellow and blue light spewing from inside the crate. Tyler jumped back, surprised. From the depths of the box rose a small red 'gun' that looked more in place in some Saturday 'Buck Rogers' serial than it did in the middle of an undead apocalpyse. Tyler noted the fact that it was hanging suspended in mid air with a quick glance of astonishment. This had, however, _not_ been the strangest part of the night. "And what the fuck is this thing?" Tyler muttered.

"That is the DG-One 'Ray Gun', a powerful weapon that is better against things powered by One-One-Five." The radio answered, pleasantly enough.

"Like the things outside and the 'Shield'?" Stephen asked.

"Exactly." The radio replied. "I am afraid that this is where my help ends. I will give you one last clue to help you through, though." The voice on the radio replied. She cleared her throat like someone about to address a class. "'Ascend, and Take your Freedom.'" The radio sparked blue lightning, and eerie laughter started. Unlike the last time, though, the person laughing was human. _And insane, by the sound of it_, Tyler thought grimly. Then it descended into static before setting on fire.

"Well." Stephen said, dryly. "At least we know Lil' Orphan Annie isn't above being dramatic." Jacob thwacked him on the back of his friend's head, giving off a satisfying whack. Tyler, however, was looking at the 'Ray Gun' in his hands.

"I don't think I'll use this until I need it." He muttered, pocketing it. Oddly, the memory transfer did not rifle through his brain, leaving Tyler uneasy and uninformed about this new 'weapon'. He frowned at it, and at his sudden lack of energy. Somehow, though, he managed to hold the Kar 98 steady. "Alright, so we're looking for some kind of machine. We blow it up, we go home."

"Man, I'm more curious on who that little girl was." Michael muttered in reply. "She knew a _lot_, a lot more than just some kid on the radio." Tyler remembered the little girl watching him as the parachute sped down the runway, him in tow.

"She's watching us somehow." Tyler muttered. "But I think she's trying to help us." Try as they might, no one had anything to say against that. They did not trust this little girl, and her eerie knowledge of the situation at hand. There was something about her that made Tyler uneasy. Before he could think anything more on it, something outside howled. The floodgates opened yet again, and the ghouls charged forth in a massive assault. "Jake, Stephen, cover the door in!" Tyler barked, taking command. "Michael, find a window!" Mike nodded, and then jogged away, readying his Kar 98. Tyler was about to find his own barrier when a moan came behind from behind a wall nearby. "What the..?" Tyler muttered, pacing over to the source of the noise. Suddenly the wall crumbled, and a necrotic arm shot through the gap, yellow eyes illuminating the target. "Shit!" Tyler shouted, firing the Kar blindly. The first wild round only staggered it, but the second shot put a clean hole through its forehead. The ghoul dead, Tyler looked into the hole and saw a massive tunnel leading to the outside. _These things are a lot smarter than we thought,_ Tyler realized with horror.

-  
Rudolf stared at the coathangers, eying Harry as if the American had named himself Joeseph Gobbels. "And what the hell do you plan to do with that?" Harry grinned at him.

"Have you ever seen old adventure movies?" Harry asked. Rudolf shook his head slowly. "Uh.." Harry stammered. "Right. Anyways, there's always a bit where the good guy is trapped by baddies in a building." He looked at the rail above him. "So, he gets on one of these things and slides out to safety." Rudolf finally made the jump in logic and cracked a smile. _What the hell_, the German's mind reported. Harry handed him a hanger, and readied himself for the jump.

"Anything worth saying now, American?" Rudolf asked, a cocky smirk on his face. The sound of wood being splintered apart came from behind them both.

"One-" He said, as a ghoul rounded the door. "Geronimo!" He shouted, then kicked off, Rudolf in tow. The zip-line buzzed as Harry hung suspended in the air. The sickening feeling of falling came to an abrupt halt when they hit the end of the line and went flying off. Harry hit the ground with a grunt, but before he could get up Rudolf careened into him. Slowly the two got to their feet and exchanged glances.

"Geronimo?" Rudolf asked, confused. "What the hell does that mean?" Harry shrugged.

"Hell if I know." Harry replied. "I think he was some Indian chief." Rudolf rolled his eyes.

"Is this 'Old West' enough for you?" Rudolf asked dryly. Harry grinned and clapped him on the shoulder.

"Brother, I'm just getting started!"

-  
Tyler warily eyed the tunnel exit before him, but soly tore his attention away and towards the undefended window. A ghoul was already beginning to tear at the barrier. "Not today, asshole!" Tyler roared, taking out hsi Ka-Bar and jabbing the kinfe into the monster's eye. He twisted it and pushed it further in before ripping it back out again. The zombie bled something yellow before falling on the ground. Outside, more roared at the death of their comrade and charged forwards. The night was illuminated with yellow pinpoitns and bright muzzle flashes.

**NEXT:** _The night is almost over, but the most dangerous part has yet to come. Ghouls charge as Tyler's team hunts for the Shield, while Zombies roar as they chase after Harry and Rudolf as they speed towards a terrible discovery. Find out how it ends in _Chapter Three: Ascend from Darkness.

**Author's Post Note:** Well, it's back for the third time, ladies and gents. For those wondering why I'm starting it all over again, it was simply an issue of interest and design. I simply wasn't interested in zombies for a good long time, and have only now have begun to come back to the killing floors that are the Moon, Der Riese, and so on. I also had a devil of a time trying to find a style of writing that would match, and eventually I decided on a mix of both choatic grit and insane heroics. I haven't been able to flaunt much yet, but as I write the next saga, which is in everyone's favourite mad house, I'm trying to bring back some of the insanity of my original run. So, let me introduce you all to the new series, and here's to its long life!  
**Addendum-**For those who are wondering, if any at all, no I am _not _English. I just tend to spell and pronounce things in their specific fashion. I think it may have to do with over-exposure to English books as a child, but... I digress.


	3. Chapter Three: Ascend from Darkness

Chapter Three: Ascend from Darkness

**LAST TIME**: _An abandoned airfield is revealed to be the site of a massive outbreak of monsters in the last days of World War II. Two teams fight for safety, but battles await them. Now, the night is nearly over, and only one hurdle remains. But, can they escape the undead and reach their havens on this_ Nacht Der Untoten?

Tyler franctically reloaded the Kar 98k yet again, sliding in one of his last "stripper clips" into the rifle breach. The ghoul before him was tearing away at Tyler's barricade, and six more were marching in behind the first. Pushing the bolt forwards, he lined up at the ghoul and fired. The zombie staggered as the powerful Mauser round ran through it, but it remained standing. _Well, damn, _Tyler thought, firing another shot. The Kar 98 was getting less and less effective, and Tyler would have to swap it for something else, and soon. The zombie fell with that second shot, and Tyler began tracking the next one, resolving to burn off all of the rifle's ammo before trading it off. To Tyler's right and left came the roar of gunfire as more and more zombies made their way closer to the building. "Suck it!" Tyler shouted defiantly as he fired the rifle yet again. The ghoul that took the round flipped onto its back from the sheer force of the round, but kept coming, crawling on its belly. _It's slower the others_, Tyler's tactical mind processed. _Leave it for now and focus on the others._ Tyler raised the Kar to see a ghoul at the window. He fired, then flipped the rifle around and brought the butt down on the weakened skull, caving it in.

"They're gonna break through!" Stephen shouted from across the room, his voice barely audible over the cracks of his weapon. Jacob was on a knee beside him, his Kar firing point-blank into a zombie that had made it to him, its arm reaching for him. Tyler focused back on the window-too damn many coming for him! He fired the rifle again, then threw it away on the ground, empty. Turning behind him, he saw the outline of a "Thompson" Sub Machine gun. He didn't question why an American weapon was on the wall, why would he?

"Oh, thank Christ!" He said, placing his hand on the wall. He felt a rush of pain as something hit him, but it barely fazed him at this point. He had killed far too many ghouls for that to matter much anymore. Turning back to the window, he found a zombie half-way through, the last boards torn away. "Not today, asshole!" Tyler shouted, firing the SMG. The .45 caliber rounds pockmarked the beast, but it fell after a quick burst. The other four outside, not counting the crawler, all took a hail of lead as Tyler lined up and held the trigger down. The tinkling of lead casings on the floor was drowned out by the roar of automatic fire and the sharp cracks of rifles. Looking down, Tyler saw the crawler make its way to the barrier. Tyler waited patiently for it to crawl all the way in, then brought his boot down with all of hsi might on the zombie's head, smashing it under his feet like a rotten pumpkin.

-  
Once again, Harry and Rudolf were running. Their highly-impractable escape from the house had only cleared them from the trappings of the home. Now they had to get out of Dodge before their pissed-off persuers caught up to them. The ground was uneven, and wet with dew. The grey fog was spreading slowly through the forest, making it difficult to see what was approaching. Alone, these things were dangerous factors. Together, they could be fatal.

Harry could feel his legs burning as he followed Rudolf through the darkened forest. In the back of his mind, something dimly asked _do you have any idea where you are going?_ The truth was that they didn't. The hosue behind them had been a false haven quickly revealed as the closest thing to a "trap" the undead could manage. They had simply no time to check their bearings. So far as Harry knew, they were heading deeper and deeper into the damned woods. Before him, Rudolf finally slowed to a halt, catching his breath in ragged inhales and exhales. Harry slumped onto the ground next to him, his oxygen debt coming back to him in force. "I haven't run this much since boot camp." Harry managed between coughs. Rudolf gave a weak smile.

"Good excersise, no?" He panted, wiping sweat away from his brow. He eyed the pitch-black surroundings.

"Where _are_ we?" Harry asked, peering into the night as well.

"I know this neck of the woods." Rudolf murmured. "There's a small creek ahead, with some marshes around it." He did some calculating in his head. "We get through it, and we should be right on the edge of English lines."

"Sounds good." Harry said, standing slowly, "but I'm not digging the terrain." The land before him was thick with underbrush and barely illuminated, even daker than the forest around the swamp. "You could hide anything in there."

"Maybe." Rudofl muttered. "But with any luck your comrades and our gunfire has kept anything from holing up in there." He loaded a new 32-round box magazine into his MP-40. "We'll find out in a minute, though." Harry readied his M1911, holding it in a firm grip. Together, with weapons drawn, the two marched into the dark marsh.

-  
Stephen moved back from the ever-grasping arms, his Kar98 empty. Angrily, he chucked his weapon at them, staggereing a few as they pressed forwards relentlessly. Suddenly Tyler appeared behind him, the Thompson in his hands raoring as it eviscerated the ghouls at the door. The echo of gunfire rolled away into the empty night. "Jesus, thanks Sarge." Stephen muttered appreciatively.

"Get yourself a new gun, kid." Tyler barked, taking a knee in the Lance Corporal's place. "They'll be back soon." Stephen nodded.

"Where'd you get that?" He asked. Tyler jestured with a quick nod to the back of the room. The marine walked off without another word. Tyler looked at Jacob.

"How are you holding up, Jake?" The sergeant asked. The other Lance Corporal let out a terse breath.

"Fine, I guess." Jacob ran his hand under his cap and through his hair. Fatigue was etched on his face.

"You look like shit to me." Tyler replied bluntly, the ghost of a smile on his face. Jake nodded, admittingly.

"Feeling like it too. Still here though." He sighed, then turned to look at Tyler. "Do you think we'll find that 'Shield' thing?"

"We'd damn well better." Tyler muttered in response. "If we're lucky, it'll be in this building." Neither of them wanted to ask what they'd do if it wasn't.

"And when you'll find it, you'll shoot it with that Ray Gun thing?" Jacob asked. Tyler pulled out the weapon and looked it over with a skeptical scoff.

"It's a toy laser pistol." He replied with some contempt. "I may not know much about mad-science, but unless this thing is running on universe-juice, it isn't going to do much other than light up and maybe make a funny noise." He shook his head. "The most important thing right now is to find that thing. We can burn other bridges later." The hint the voice over the radio gave ran through Tyler's mind again. "_Ascend and Take Your Freedom."_ He grimaced. _Ascend, as in go up? As in upstairs?_ Another thought hit him. _That chalk writing said something about ascending, didn't it? Maybe it's a clue of some kind, like the Shield is hidden behind it or something._ Tyler stood up. "Mike, get over here." He said down the room. The corpsman paced over, rifle in hand.

"What's up?" He asked, eying the concern in Tyler's eyes.

"I was thinking about that clue we have-I think she was either telling us to go upstairs, or to check out that graffiti in the main room." Michael nodded.

"Yeah, I was thinking the same thing." Mike hefted the rifle. "Let's check out that wall first-we don't want to open up any new attack vectors." Tyler nodded in agreement, then started walking.

They reached the wall a few seconds later, the white chalk before them. "Do you think he knew what he was writing?" Michael asked. All Tyler could do was shrug.

"Dunno, but he's helping us out." He murmured. "At least he died for something." Tyler frowned-the markings were well out of his reach. He stooped over onto the ground, and grabbed a large piece of debris. He hefted the rock, and heard the impact, then a soft echo coming from the other side. "It's hollow?" He said, surprised. Tyler picked up another rock and threw it, to the same results. He grimaced, eying the wall's thickness. "Wall's pretty tough-I don't think we have anything that'll even dent it."

"Then we'll have to check that other way up." Michael said. "Come on, let's head back-the Ghouls'll be here any second." As if on cue, something howled in the dark.

-  
Harry's eye's were having a bitch of a time trying to adjust to the sudden darkness. The black was thick, almost tangible, and was all over the place. Oddly, Harry did not seem to hear the noises of animals or bugs. Nothing was moving, nothing was _breathing _save for the two armed sojourners in the night. Rudolf seemed uneasy about the silence. "Why aren't we hearing anything?" He murmured. "It's absolutely quiet."

"The things scared off the wildlife?" Harry proposed. Rudolf mulled the idea over.

"Or ate them." He added, grimly. "It's like they're hiding, like how they do when a wolf is about to attack." He looked at Harry. "This is probably a trap."

"Trap or no trap," Harry said, determined, "it'll be far easier to get through here than to dick around outside." He looked down at the ground. "Plus, I bet the mud'll slow the bastards down." Harry grinned. "We can outpace 'em here." Rudolf, however, kept his weapon raised. "You've been here before?"

"All the time as a child." Rudolf replied, never tearing his eyes away from where he was going. "This was where I'd go when I wanted to be alone." Harry, being the asshole he was, immediately thought of several crude responses, but silenced them in his head.

"Do you think your family knows it's here?" Harry asked. "Like they might have tried to go through here too?" Rudolf shrugged.

"It's just my mother and father, really." He replied. "Dad knew the forest, but avoided the swamp for the most part." Rudolf shook his head. "If he came in here, he'd have practically no idea where to go."

"And could be bleeding out." Harry added before he could think the better of it. Rudolf flinched at that, but to his credit kept his cool. A thought struck Harry, and he cursed. "Damn, we could have followed the blood trail!" Rudolf nodded.

"Too late for that-" Something moved fast in the thick underbrush. Rudolf froze, and took a knee slowly. "Did you see that?" He hissed.

"Yeah." Harry whispered in reply. "We're not alone in here." He readied himself for the onslaught. He wasn't disappointed. Suddenly they were everywhere, pairs of yellow eyes string them down. The zombies approached, shaking their heads in some mad frenzy. Harry lined up and opened fire, the M1911 roaring as the .45 caliber round hit the first ghoul he saw. The zombie staggered, but kept on coming undeterred. Harry fired again, then a third time. The last round hit it in the eye, and the monster slumped over. "Aim for the eyes!" Harry shouted as the ghouls started to slowly run. He fired the pistol as fast as he could aim, his gunshots melding with Rudolf's. The MP40 was deafening, but Harry was running on adrenaline now-he didn't even care.

The zombies kept coming, a relentless wave of necrotic flesh pushing on and on towards the two men. Rudolf's MP40 clicked as the box clip ran dry. "Fuck!" He snarled, tossing the small object away. He slammed a new one in and slammed the bolt forwards, then opened fired again.

"Come on!" Harry yelled at the German. "We've gotta run, or they'll run us over!" He tugged on Rudolf's shoulder, and the two took off into the darkened swamp, a horde of undead behind them.

-  
By this point, all four of the marines had bought the M1A1 Thompson Sub Machine-Gun. The weapon had a fascinating history-it had been designed in the aftermath of the Great War with the intention of making it the perfect trench-storming weapon. However, the weapon reached civilian hands during the 1920's, and had become the stuff of legend. Ironically enough, its first use was a resounding failure, as the weapon's heavy recoil pushed the barrel up and away from the target. As it so happened, the botched mission may have saved the target's life in more ways than one-the man, a rival mob boss, retired from professional crime for good. This version of the Thompson had on it the Cutts Compensator, a special add-on to the weapon that directed the gases of firing up to reduce the recoil and keep the weapon level during prolonged shooting. It was no wonder that the accurate and powerful weapon had become the standard infantry assault weapon for both the American and English-Commonwealth armies. Now Tyler once again held the weapon in his hands, using it against an enemy far from the creator's intentions. All the marine could do was appreciate the ingenuity of one John T. Thompson, and the power of the .45 caliber round.

The first ghoul to try its luck against the gun made it all the way to the barrier, Tyler waiting patiently for it. Its necrotic legs somehow managed something along the lines of a sprint, which surprised the Marine watching it. However, once it reached the barrier it stopped to continue its usual work of destruction. As it reached the window, Tyler put the barrel of the Tommy Gun against the zombie's skull, and grinned. "Sayonara, fuck-face." He growled, then squeezed the trigger. The gun obliterated the ghoul's skull, leaving only a stump where its head had been. Its friends were almost on top of Tyler, but they shared similar fates as the Thompson roared like some wild animal. Suddenly, something roared back at it. Tyler turned, surprised, to see zombies pouring in through the back wall. _Fuck, I forgot!_ Tyler thought in a panicked revelation. "Hey, heads up!" He shouted. The other marines turned to face him just in time to see the growing horde.

"Shit!" Stephen shouted, firing a frenzied burst.

"Get to the stairs!" Tyler shouted, pointing at the corner stairwell blocked by debris. The men took off, the ghouls following doggedly behind them. Tyler ran through the midst of the horde, ducking and dodging their flailing arms as he fired his Thompson back into the crowd.

-  
The swamp's thick mud was difficult going, the slop slowing you down as you tried to keep moving without losing your shoe. This issue was, of course, a human issue. The ghouls, however, did not care about what was left of their clothing, and followed persistantly behind them. Thankfully, they had their own issues in the swamp. Harry and Rudolf trudged on as behind them the ghouls staggered through the rough terrain, their unnatural movements complicated by the mess. Within a few minutes, the two had pulled far ahead of the zombies, only a darkened swamp before them, the marsh beneath their feet. Harry cast a glance on his shoes, and groaned. "Oh, hell, that's going to come out of my pay."

"And what?" Rudolf said, teasingly. "The bomber won't?" Harry gave him a light shove, sending the German sprawling into the mud.

"Nah, that'll come out of yours." Harry quipped. The two laughed in spite of themselves-they needed something to cool their nerves. Harry helped Rudolf back up to his feet and clapped him on the shoulder. "Alright, let's get going." Rudolf chuckled under his breath as he wiped off some of the mud on his jacket, the two pacing further into the swamp.

Suddenly the pale beams of moonlight cut through the ptich-black night. Rudolf sucked in a breath. "We've reached the edge of the swamp." He announced, softly. His MP40 came up to a firing position. "We can't be far from the edge of the forest now-let's try to be careful." Harry nodded, but before he could start walking, something caught his eye. There on the ground, illuminated by the moonlight, sat a trail of fresh red blood.

-  
The debris vanished in a flash of lighta s Stephen laid the palm of his hand against it. They were too pressed for space to be surprised, or even care. More ghouls were flooding into the rom in a rush of necrotic monsters, their moan like one single roar. The Marines fired their Thompsons for what it was worth, but the zombies kept coming. Tyler emptied his clip into the first batch, body parts flying away from the chaos like discarded toys. Slowly they backed up the stairs, never ceasing their volley fire. The room upstairs was in even worse condition than the ones below. Walls were torn away, debris was scattered on the floor, and open flames burned. Through a window, Tyler could see the wrecked B-17 lying on the tarmac, black smoke mixing with grey fog.

The ghouls kept coming, but the staris limited the flow, allowing htem to be mowed down as they came. Tyler kept firing, a symphony of gunfire, until the flood suddenly stopped. Bodies melting away into dust lay all around the floor. On the stairs, they were piled three ghouls high. "Is that it?" Jacob asked.

"No, not yet." Tyler replied. "Mike, let's find that Shield." The corpsman nodded, and the two made their way into the adjoining room. To the right was a battered wall replaced with sandbags showing the forest in the fog. It was an impressive view, but an army of zombies in the distance was far more stunning.

"That's a lot of them out there, Ty." Michael noted softly. Tyler nodded slowly. "I don't think we can fight them all off."

"Hopefully, we won't have to." Tyler replied. "Come on!" The wall met them first, though. To their right, past the overwatch, lay a blocked stairway down to the main rom. "The thing should be on the other side of this." Tyler said, grimacing. Truth be told, Tyler couldn't see a way past. Debris blocked any true way in, if there was any. A faint yellow glow caught Tyler's eye. He dropped to a knee and grinned. Light was shining through a faint crack in the wall. Micke smiled as he saw it himself.

"Our way in." He said, smirking. "But how to get through?" Tyler frowned-he had no explosives, no hamers, or anything that could dent it. Just his Thompson, and that was useless. Reluctantly, Tyler's thoughts were forced to turn to the small 'toy pistol' at his side.

"Worth a shot." Tyler muttered as he pulled the Ray Gun out.

-  
Harry and Rudolf had been following the blood trail for a good five minutes in silence. As they went further along, the trail got thinner and thinner. _Whoever poor bastard this is, he's bleeding out bad._Rudolf had gone deathly palehe was thinking the exact same thing. Harry grimaced, knowing that whatever was at the end of this trail was something horrible. He was not disappointed.

It was a forest clearing where the trail ended, so peaceful and serene. The moon illuminated the scene perfectly in a soft pale light, the red blood on the ground sparkling like wine on the grass. Rudolf fell to his knees before the two bodies left on the floor. Harry stayed back from it, and examined the scene-two older Germans, a man and a woman. In the man's hand was a Luger P38 pistol, and in both of their heads were ragged bullet wounds. The events were straight forwards after noticing a bite wound on the father's arm, the flesh discoloured yellow all the way down to his hand. The dad had been bit, and was bleeding out. After reaching the clearing, he had made a joint decision with his wife that they could not survive together, and it was better to die in each other's arms than to live apart. The father takes the gun, and finishes the story. "You said that they could be okay." Rudolf whimpered before Harry, the bodies of his parents intertwined in one last embrace. _They won't come back, though._ Harry thought, in some form of grim thanks.

Harry went to his comrade's side, the German finally showing his youth. He had seemed older in the chaotic world of the undead, but here he was vulnerable. Rudolf could not have been older than nineteen. "Rudolf, are you okay?" Harry asked softly. Rudolf did not reply. "Rudolf?" The German shoved the American away.

"Leave me alone." Rudolf said in a shaking low voice. Harry reached out to try and comfort the man, but Rudolf smacked his hand away. "I said, leave me alone, God-dammit!" Rudolf shouted. Harry stayed back, but kept eying the German. In the distance, something howled.

"Rudolf, we've gotta go-the zombies are going to be here." Harry said, softly. Rudolf, however, grabbed the P38 from his father's cold hands. Harry went pale as the realization hit him. "No, don't do anything stupid here, Rudolf." The German eyed him sadly.

"Why not?" He replied. "My parents are dead, hordes of the undead are coming..." He paused. "I can't see myself getting out of this alive." Harry glared at him.

"Bullshit." He said, flatly. Rudolf blinked in surprise at the sudden anger in the man's tone. "You've gone for a whole _week_ on your own. You can do this!" Rudolf didn't look convinced, but he still held the pistol in a relatively safe position. "Look," Harry started again, keeping his hands in the air. "Your parents have been around for a long time, and they had only you int their minds when they died." Harry lied. He had no earthly idea what they were thinking, but it was a bluff that he had to make. "No parent wants to outlive their children. Respect their wishes, and _live_." Rudolf shuddered, then dropped the gun.

"Okay, Harry." He said, getting to his feet. "Let's get the fuck out of here." He took one last look at his parents, and then slowly walked away. Harry followed behind him, thinking only how close he had come to losing his friend.

-  
Tyler raised the Ray Gun, images flashing through his mind as the memory transfer ran rampant. "Okay," he muttered. "Now, if this thing works..." Tyler flipped a switch, and suddenly the Ray Gun hummed, coming to life. Howls were growing from outside, coming closer by the second.

"Do it, Ty." Mike said. Stephen rounded the corner.

"They're here!" He shouted. Tyler frowned, then lined up on the cracked wall. Slowly, he pulled the trigger. The gun bucked with an unearthly roar, a blast of green light striking the wall. The concrete crumbled like it was cardboard, debris mixed with the odd green smoke.

"Son of a bitch." Mike muttered. "We should have been using _that_ earlier." Tyler glared at him, then the hole. A yellow light was pouring from inside.

"Cover me." Tyler muttered, crawling into the hidden room. The space was small, cramped, and lit from a single source-a large object in the center of the room. A yellow tank hung above it, connected by pipes, while a single panel gave the thing a name: "U-3 Safety Field Generator/Shield" stenciled on the side. "I found it!" Tyler shouted.

"Shoot it, Ty!" Mike yelled back. Grimacing, the Sergeant lined up, then fired. The machine took the hit, then began to spark. The yellow tank suddenly shone white, and cracks began to appear. An electronic scream began to build from the machine.

"Oh, fuck me." Tyler said, realizing what was happening. He dove out the hole and back into the bunker. "It's gonna blow!" He screamed, putting his hand on the debris-blocked staircase just outside the hole. "Go!" The dust vanished to reveal the untouched stairs, and all the Marines ran down the stairs as the zombies began clambering inside. Reaching the iron gate that he had closed only a few hours ago, Tyler raised the Ray Gun and blasted the padlock on the door. The gate swung obediently open, and the four men sprinted out away from the bunker as fast as they could, ghouls closing in behind them. Tyler turned to see a blinding white light grwoing from the bunker. "Get down!" He shouted, pushing them all to the floor.

The explosion was like none Tyler had ever experienced. The white light overtook everything, temporarily blinding him as it grew. The roar was loud, a massive burst of sound that sounded more like something being ground against his ears than a traditional 'boom'. Then the shockwave hit, which blew him and the others off the ground and forwards a few feet. The light faded, and slowly the wind died down. Slowly, Tyler got up and turned around to look at Ground Zero, but he found himself looking instead at flat, scorched earth. The bunker, and all the proof that they had been attacked by anything more than humans, was forever gone.

-  
The flash of light caught Harry and Rudolf as the edge of the forest was in sight. "What the fuck?" Harry said, looking at the growing dome of white light. Suddenly it felt like someone had slugged Harry in his chest, and sent him flying through the air. He landed at the trucnk of a tree not too far away, Rudolf landing on top of him. "Ah, fuck." He muttered, groaning. "What was that?"

"That?" Rudolf said, wiping dust off his knees as he stood. "No idea. Let's just get out of-" Rudolf turned to see people approaching fast, weapons in their hands. "Harry?"

"Yeah?" Harry said, groaning as he worked himself to his feet. He turned to face three British soldiers, their Lee Enfield rifles aiming at him. Harry sighed, defeated. "God Save the King." He muttered, then turned to face his comrade. "Welcome to freedom, bro."

-  
It was a whole week before Tyler got to see sunlight again. Almost the very instant he said the word "zombie" did they throw him in some holding cell and hid the key. He had spent most of the time sitting against the hard concrete wall, planning revenge on the idiotic bastards that had trapped him and the rest of squad in there. His Ray Gun, nonfunctional, had been confiscated, and he had been sent into "quarentine". It was somewhere around noon when the door opened, and in walked in a mysterious man. Tyler eyed him warily. "Hello, Sergeant Willis?" The man in the crisp coat asked.

"What's it to you?" Tyler replied, somewhat bitterly. The man clicked his tongue.

"Now, is that what you say to the man who is going to get you out of here?" The stranger said. The others, sitting in their own corners, perked up, but did not say anything. The man sat down on the floor. "Now, let me say right now that the military has been idiotic involving this. Hallucinogenic gas..." He scoffed like it was some kind of joke.

"It wasn't a gas, I'll tell you that." Tyler replied, leaning in. "We fought zombies, man. Yellow eyes, wounds that could make you shit white, but they kept moving like nothing happened." The man held up his hand.

"I know, Sergeant, I believe you." He leaned in closer as well. "What do you know about Group Nine-Three-Five?" Tyler shrugged amnicably.

"Some kind of research team the Nazis had working for them, I guess. They made the zombies." Tyler said plantively. "That, and the Ray Gun and the Shield." The stranger smiled.

"And that's just about all we know." He extended his hand. "My name is Doctor Oppenhimer. For the last few yeras I have been working on a superweapon to end the war, but right now I've been assigned to also learn everything I can about Group Nine Three Five. It's called the 'Dreamland' initiative."

"Dreamland?" Tyler asked. Oppenhiemer shrugged.

"Some Army Air Corps Base-To-Be in Navada. That's where they're stockpiling all of the Nine Three Five tech." Oppenhiemer sighed. "Now, you mentioned some strange things going on while you were there." He looked at his notes. "Telekenisis, guns appearing out of thin air, a box that holds objects in suspension..." He trailed off.

"Yeah, sir, I don't know what to say there." Tyler admitted. "But I want to know who that little girl is." Oppenhiemer's eyebrows arched.

"Girl?" He asked, confused.

"Yeah, some little girl started talking on a radio, telling us how to get out of Dodge." Tyler said. "She knew a hellova lot about the Ray Gun, the box, the Shield... pretty much everything." Oppenhiemer nodded.

"The Ray Gun being the weapon you had when the British arrived?" Oppenhiemer asked. Tyler nodded. "Hm... We'll need to track some leads on her." He looked back at his notes. "What about this 'Ray Gun'? How does it work?" Tyler shrugged.

"I don't know, Doc." Tyler admitted. "It shot some kind of green light. Pretty damn powerful if you ask me." Oppenhiemer whistled, impressed.

"Energy weaponry _and_ reanimation?" He muttered. "I suppose this is all the proof we need that Nine Three Five is far more advanced than us." Oppenhiemer sighed. "Sergeant, I understand that you and your men are tired, but I have a job for you." Tyler eyed him warily.

"What's the op?" He asked, glaring at the scientist-turn-spook.

"We had a man inside the Group, an agent by the name of Peter McCain-" Tyler's eyes widened as he remembered the abandoned helmet at the airfield. "-But he went missing, and our last report from him was inside a facility near the German-Polish border. We sent in a team to rescue him, but they've vanished as well. I'm asking that you sign up for one more job on the behalf of Dreamland to go where we sent that team."

"And where is that?" Michael interrupted, finally talking.

"An abandoned asylum-turn-Group Nine Three Five facility in the path of the Soviet advance." Oppenhiemer said.

"Who was in charge of your team?" Tyler asked, slowly. Very vaguely he could remember that some of the Raiders were pulled a while back, but how long and who had failed his memory.

"One Sergeant Dempsey." Oppenhiemer replied. He seemed surprised at the look on Tyler's face. "He asked we call him 'Tank'." The doctor added, helpfully.

"We're in." Tyler said suddenly. _No way in hell am I leaving the best man in the Raiders behind, _Tyler thought, _Raiders don't leave Raiders._ "Let's get going."

**NEXT:** _An abandoned asylum becomes the site of a feroucious battle as the Marines fight to find what happened to one of their own. But this place shall test Tyler like nothing before-Samantha is jealous of her secrets. Can the Marines survive in this new environment? Find out next time in _Chapter Four: Ghosts of the Damned.

**Author's Note: **Right, one section of this whole thing done! This is some serious progress, and I'm almost done manually writing out the Verruckt chapters, which means we're not far to hitting the meat of the story-Tank Dempsey and the Der Riese Four.  
I am going to try something while I write the next story. I encourage you readers to PM me questions involving these chapters and questions on the future of the series here, and I'll answer them in a seperate "Q&A Story". If you guys like it, we'll continue off for every three chapters. If not, then we'll stay conventional.  
Keep fighting, guys!


	4. Chapter Four: Ghosts of the Damned

**Author's Pre-Note:** Involving the Q&A Story Creation-At the time of this publishing, all emails should be turned in, and _no _new ones can be sent in until after the _Verruckt _trilogy, and only if the community demands it...

Chapter 4: Ghosts of the Damned

**LAST TIME:** _Four Marine Raiders, dropped into an abandoned airbase, have fought and survived against an enemy far unlike any they had fought before. Now, as operatives for the top-secret _Dreamland _initiative, they must hunt for clues regarding the fate of _Sergeant Tank Dempsey. _But this asylum will test them like nothing before, as they struggle to survive where so many have become _Verruckt.

The small woodsland cottage had become Tyler's home for the past three weeks. It was now March, 1945, and the Soviet Juggernaut was nearly to the heart of Nazi Germany. For the past month, Tyler and his team had been waiting and planning for the mission into the forgotten sanitarium outside Breslau, a wait nigh-unbearable given the stakes.

Tyler and Tank (His real name was Joe) had been boot-camp buddies, and had found themselves fighting on Pelileu together. Tank had captured once, and had fought his way out of Jap captivity using a bobby pin and his Medal of Honor. _Stupid bastard only got that medal because he was a damn moron. Drove a truck into a bunker and he expected them all to miraculously die?_ Tyler chuckled at the memory of a oil-and-grease covered Tank clambering out of a ruined pillbox, a stupid grin on his face.

Tyler's own smile faded as his thoughts turned to the situation at hand. The asylum only a good few minutes away was an actual Group 935 facility. No doubt existed in Tyler and his team's mind that the place would be full of ghouls. Tank was a tough SOB, perhaps even _the _tough SOB, but even Tyler doubted that he could survive as long as this.

The door opened and closed behind Tyler. "Hey, Ty." Michael said, taking a knee next to his CO.

"Hey Mike." Tyler replied. "How'd recon go?" Michael sighed.

"The Krauts are pulling out as best as they can from the area-they think the Soviets will be here soon." Tyler nodded. "The place itself is dead, man-no ghouls, but no one alive either." Tyler grunted as Michael looked at a small radio. "Doc Oppenhiemer's going to give us that order soon, I heard." Michael said. The elder marine sighed.

"I'm more interested on how he got us this deep into Germany un-noticed." Tyler admitted. "Scary what these spooks can do." On the beds nearby lay Stephen and Jacob. They had done the night shift, and had been watching the abandoned facility for hours. A radio lay on a desk in the center of the room, as well as a pre-war blueprint of the facility. The radio had a light next to it to show activity on the private line. It began to flash a dim green. "There's the go order." Tyler said, grim. "Wake up the dynamic duo, alright?" Mike sighed and paced way while Tyler flipped the radio on.

"Hollow to Horseman, Hollow to Horseman; come in, Horseman." Oppenhiemer's voice came in over the radio. Tyler, despite himself, grinned at the asinine callsigns.

"Horseman." Tyler replied. Behind him was the sound of splashing water and alarmed shouts. _Well, he got them up at least._ Tyler thought dryly.

"Horseman, Crane is heading for the Bridge, ETA fifteen hours. Recover all information at Bridge then slag the facility; if you can find anything about our missing man, do it, but that's not the priority." Tyler grimaced-to Oppenhiemer, recovering Tank was not a priority. While the Marine couldn't blame him, he didn't want to give up on Dempsey just quite so yet.

"Hollow, any information on _TLF_?" _The Little Friend_, Tyler thought grimly.

"Sorry, Horseman, but we've got nothing; she's a damn ghost." _A ghost among the Dead and the Damned,_ Tyler thought. _How poetic. _He sighed.

"Copy, Hallow. Horseman's stepping off. Out." Tyler switched off the radio, then turned to face two wet and cranky marines, with a corpsman behind them barely able to contain his laughter.

"Sir!" Stephen said, in a formal military fashion. "Request permission to throw the Corpsman out the window, sir!" Michael started dying in the back, his guffaws echoing in the small room. Even the two soaked soldiers couldn't help but chuckle. Tyler grinned for the first time in what seemed like ages.

"Some other day, kid." Tyler said. "We're moving out." The smiles faded. "Grab your gear, and let's get going. Be ready for a demolitions job, though."

"We're taking the asylum down?" Jacob asked, surprised.

"Yeah, _after _we've combed the place." Tyler sighed. "Let's get to it."

-  
The walk to the asylum was quiet, and solemn. The instant they passed into the supposed range of the Shield, a strange tingling sensation ran down the squad's spines. Tyler glanced down at his battery-powered watch, expecting to find it frozen in time. To his surprise, the device kept ticking, the second hand defiantly moving closer to 1936 hours GMT. _The watch shoulda stopped,_ Tyler thought. While he hadn't noticed it until after the fight at the airfield, his watch had cut out at the same time as the bomber had, stuck at midnight exactly. It wasn't until after they had been rescued by the English did Tyler notice that his watch was a good few hours behind the rest of the world. _Two and a half, really_, Tyler added. The fact that the watch hadn't cut out meant one of two things. Tyler hoped that this meant that the Shield had been destroyed, but there was really only one way to find out for sure.

"Asylum's dead ahead, Sarge." Stephen said, lowering his M1 Garand. "But it looks like Ivan set the forest on fire." The ever-present crimson glow had become far more pronounced, and thick black clouds floated skywards.

"Why would they do that?" Jacob asked. Tyler had to remind himself that the kid had missed out on most of the war.

"To burn the Krauts out of their bunkers." He replied, simply. "We did it all the time on Pelileu and Iwo." Tyler grimaced. "The Reds are coming a lot faster than the Doc thought." Michael nodded behind him.

"Christ." The corpsman muttered. "At least the place is dead." Tyler turned to look at him.

"Be careful what you wish for." The sergeant said, moving closer to the imposing asylum before them. The building was large, and mostly covered by trees and moss; perfect camoflague from aerial observation. It had massive wood and iron doors leading into the complex, open slightly ajar. The sand and dirt floor beneath them were marked with footprints and coagulated blood-stains. "More than we know..." Tyler whispered, bending down. There seemed to be two types of tracks-slow dragged ones in huge numbers, and sparse indentations that signified someone running. _Ghouls and humans, all of them moving in a hurry._ Standing back up, Tyler looked at the face of the building he could see. It seemed like all of the windows had been methodically broken, but no barriers covered them. _They must not have been afraid of something coming in, more of getting out was the concern._

"Do you think Tank's in there?" Michael asked. Tyler shrugged, uselessly.

"I doubt it. He may have gotten caught up in all of this when the shit hit the fan." Tyler replied. "Hopefully, he got out in time." _Then where is he? _The unspoken question demanded. "Let's get ready to move, and try to find load-bearing columns while you're at it." Jacob and Stephen nodded, pulling out their satchel charges. All four of them loaded their weapons, and got themselves ready for a fight ahead. The asylum waited.

To Tyler's immense surprise, nothing jumped out at him as he walked into the opening archway. The entrance hallway opened into a plaza, an empty fountain laying in the center. "Clear?" He called, warily.

"Clear." Came the equally surprised response. Slowly, they lowered their weapons, deigning to hope. "Well, so far, so good." Stephen muttered. To the right of them was a large broken window, big enough to fit a man vaulting in.

"Come on, through there." Tyler barked, clambering through the gap and into the facility.

-  
The room inside had once been clean and tidy, a proper medical establishment. Now it had seen a terrible conflict, and was shattered far beyond repair. Bulletholes pockmarked the walls, blast marks blackened the floor, and dark red blood spots were splattered everywhere. "Fucking hell." Tyler muttered, awed by the destruction. The small 'reception area' Tyler was now in continued down to the left until it hit a closed door. To the right, debris blocked a stairwell. The long hall connected to a few further rooms, making it a large space to explore. The sergeant sighed. "Alright, Michael will go with Jack and go down that hall." He gestured to the long way to the broken door. "I'll check this side with Stephen."

"Got it, Sarge." Stephen said, wrapping the Garand around his back. "So, what the hell are we looking for, anyways?"

"Documents, papers, maps..." Tyler replied with a grunt. "Anything that-" Something buzzed loudly to the Marine's left. He turned to see a blast door slam shut inbetween the halves of the hallway, splitting it, and the team, in two.

"No!" Tyler heard Jacob yell a heartbeat before the metallic clang reverberated through the empty hallway.

"Mike!" Tyler shouted. "What the fuck's going over there? Are you guys okay?"

"We're fine!" Came the muffled reply through the two windows. _Probably bulletproof_, Tyler thought. "What happened?"

"A glitch in the wiring?" Stephen suggested. He ran a hand through his hair, then stopped dead. Slowly, he looked down at his shoulder, and recoiled in surprise. "Woah, what the fuck?" He shouted, surprised. Tyler turned, caught off guard. "Where'd my gun go?" Stephen's Garand had vanished off the kid's shoulders.

"You probably dropped it, numnuts." Tyler replied, unkindly.

"No, I had it around my shoulder a second ago!" Stephen replied, indignant. He looked at Tyler. "Where'd your shotgun go?" Tyler looked down. The M1918 Trench Gun had vanished from Tyler's hands.

"My gun!" The sergeant yelped, surprised that he hadn't noticed the sudden loss of weight on his arms. "What the hell?" Commotion came from the other side of the blast-door.

"Our weapons are gone too, Ty." Michael said, bitterly. "All we've got are our pistols." Tyler checked his holster. The silver outline of the M1911 stared back at him.

"Okay, we've got that at least." Tyler said, trying to think. "We're being fucked with here." He growled. "Stephen?" Tyler called, noticing the man's disapperance.

"Over here, sir." Stephen's voice wavered as he answered, coming from around the corner. "When you're done over there, you're gonna want to see this."

-  
Michael smacked on the wall angrily, his brain finally recognizing that they had been cut off. He sighed, then looked at the panicking Jacob. The door had essentially closed on his own, and Jack had not been expecting it. "Alright kid, calm down. We're going to be okay." He said, calmly. Jacob erratically nodded his head, then swallowed. Suddenly, an odd sound floated through the air-the sound of a woman 'shushing' something. "What the..?" The corpsman muttered.

"It's coming from that room over there." Jacob said, in a hoarse whisper. The room lay before them, and the floor was caked with thick red blood around the entrance. "Oh my God." He whispered. The woman shushed again, and the sound of a crying baby began to be audible.

"Someone's still alive in there!" Michael shouted, moving for the door. He rounded the corner to see an empty room. Along a wall were small iron doors. One lay open, revealing a metal tray stained by blood. Michael leaned to see what was in the opened door, and saw only darkness... and what looked like the inside of a furnace. "What the fuck!" Michael roared, stepping back instinctively. Jacob rounded the corner, pistol at the ready.

"What?" He yelled, holding the pistol in an unsteady grip. "What's going on?"

"They've been fucking _burning people_, man!" Michael spat back, venom in his voice. "Motherfuckers been burning anyone they don't think is fuckin' useful!" Jacob clenched his fists and paled visibly.

"But hwat about that woman?" He whispered after a moment. "Where is she?" The sound of a crying baby filled the air, and a woman sobbing softly along with it. The sonds were coming from the open furnace.

"We need to get out of here." Michael said, slowly. "Now."

-  
Tyler examined the heavy blast door, trying to figure out why it had collapsed when someone shouted on the other side of the door. He pounded on the glass, trying to get the attention of the other marines. "Guys, what's going on in there?" He shouted, but no response came. Tyler stood for a minute, then pushed off the door, frustrated. _No gunfire means nothing bad happened, right?_ He thought, trying to put the pieces together.

"Hey, Sarge?" Stephen called. "Are you coming or what?" Tyler blinked, realizing he had spaced out.

"Yeah, I'm coming." Tyler answered. "Michael and Jack were screwing around." He found Stephen standing next to what looked like a vending machine. It was tall, and painted red and white. 'Juggernog Cola' read the splash text on it. "Hmph." Tyler huffed. "What is it?"

"Some kind of soda machine." Stephen replied. He pulled out a sheet of paper, somewhat stained by blood. _Well, that or juice, _Tyler thought dryly. "I found this in a pile back there, and it said that this was part of some kinda 'super-soldier' initiative."

"Oh really?" Tyler intoned, sardonically. "How so? Will it make them 'super-refreshed'?" Stephen grinned, but shook his head.

"Nah, the paper's got some kinda bullshit science that could make you tougher." The young marine replied simply. "Looks like it's off, though; no power?" Tyler nodded.

"Hopefully we won't need to screw with it." He replied. He checked his surroundings, and found himsefl looking behind him to see a blood-spattered room with a surgical chair in the center. "What the hell?" Stephen grimaced behind him.

"It ain't a pretty picture, Sarge, but I couldn't find anything useful." Tyler barely even heard Stephen's voice. A trance seemed to fall over teh sergeant, and he slowly approached the table, a human hand strapped in place still. Tyler reached out to touch it when suddenly a bright light filled his eyes. Images flashed rapidly before his mind: a man starpped into the chair, a ragged bite wound on his arm and yellow light passing through his veins.

"Do it!" The man yelled in an American accent. A drill whirred, and someone screamed. A man stood watching, a harsh expression on his face and a German officer's cap adorning his head. Screams, moans, and inhuman roars flahsed rapidly before the series ended with the face of a little girl.

Tyler snapped his eyes open, the sound of pistol fire coming from nearby. Tyler groaned, and sat up. "Wake up, sarge!" Stephen yelled. "Ghouls are here!" Tyler worked himself rapidly to his feet, reaching for his pistol.

"What?" He yelled, moving to a barrier not far from the Juggernog machine. "When did they show up?"

"They just started burrowing up the instant you conked out!" Stephen shouted in reply. "God-damn, they must'a been waiting for us!" A manical laugh filled the air, and Tyler readied himself for the new nightmare.

-  
The laugh caught Michael almost as much off-guard as the sound of zombies approaching. "Holy hell, here they come!" Jacob shouted to the corpsman. Michael readied his M1911 and decided to stay in the incinerator room facing a single barrier in, as much as he dislike the bloody mess.

"I'll stay here, you look for another way in and stick with it!" Michael barked. _Man, this is bad._ He thought. _We've been split up, and we are certainly not ready for thsi._ The forst burned outside, smoke obscuring the distance in a thick grey-black haze. The first ghoul slowly made his way over to teh window, staggering forth. This ghoul seemed slightly different than the ones at the airfield, Michael noted with horror. It seemed somewhat focused on something, moving forwards in a straight line. At the same time though, it seemed still confused and dazed, but the evolution was impossible to ignore. _Are they getting smarter?_ Mike asked in thought. _They were stupid before; straight-forwards automatons that moved straight at you the instant they saw you._ This time they had _hid_, actually waited for the oppertune time to attack. _An ambush_, Michael thought with a grimace, then refocused himself on the ghoul approaching. Three more marched behind their vanguard. Mike brandished his Ka-Bar and readied himself: if anything was to stay from the airfield, a good blow with the knife would take out any ghoul in a single motion. It was a good way to conserve ammunition.

The beast approached the window, and in Michael's mind he pictured where to aim the knife. Just as it reached to tear the first board away, Michael thrusted his knife forwards, and plunged it into the bridge of the ghoul's nose. Its eyes flashed cool white, indicating the monster was dead, and Mike pulled the knife out. The next one walked forward, and plunged its arm through the gap, reaching for him. It missed, badly, and Tyler stabbed the zombie as it leaned forwards. The other two moved together at the same time, just out of Mike's reach, but not out of range. He pulled out his pistol, lined up, and pulled the trigger. The ghoul to the left crumpled on the floor, dead once more. The one on the right roared in rage, and hobbled a little faster. It failed in its gambit with a single .45 caliber round. The moans faded.

"Is that it?" Jacob panted, not too far away. Michael shook his head.

"No." Michael replied, grim. "I think this is only just the beginning."

-  
The four met again at the barrier. Tyler eyed all four of them, concerned. "How are you doing over there?" He asked.

"We're fine." Michael replied through the glass. "Any ideas on how to get this damn thing open?" All Tyler could do was shake his head.

"Don't you _fucking dare_ leave us here, Sarge!" Jacob shouted through the glass, panic becoming anger in his voice.

"Just hold on, okay?" Stephen said to his friend. Tyler nodded, then turned his head to look at something in the corner of his eye. Written there, in chalk, was the phrase 'Power will Re-Unite You'. Tyler noted with unease that the handwritting was eerily similar to the writing on the wall at the airfield; as much as he didn't like the coincidence, he had to put that thought away for the moment. An image suddenly flashed through Tyler's mind-a blue lit room with a single switch on the wall, a hand hanging off it. Tyler blinked, and the vision was gone.

"We'll get the power on, and that should clear thing up." Tyler said, firmly.

"You sure, Ty?" Michael asked. Tyler slowly nodded.

"We don't have anything better to work on, Mike." Tyler admitted. "Whatever works." Mike nodded.

"Okay." He said, "We'll stay down here and hold the fort, maybe kill off a few more ghouls." Michael flashed a thumbs up. "Good luck, bro." Tyler returned the gesture.

"We'll leave in a minute." Tyler said. "I bet that 'point' system is back in place, so we're going to need to rack up a few kills." The marine put some venom into the word 'point'-he did not take too kindly to being fucked with.

"Alright, Ty; I trust you." Michael said through the glass. The corpsman shuddered. "There's something _wrong_ with this place." He said. "Terrible shit happened here, man. I'd bet my bottom dollar this place is fuckin' haunted." In any other place, Tyler would have poked fun at the normally scientific corpsman for making a turn to the supernatural, but the instant Michael had said it an odd feeling had washed over Tyler; the feeling that he was being watched.

"Yeah, I'm starting to get that too." Tyler admitted. "You think that girl's back?" Michael shrugged through the glass.

"I wouldn't doubt it at this point, man." Mike replied. "This is starting to get pretty _deja-vu_." Tyler nodded, but the sound of ground being torn away interrupted them both.

"Plan made, yeah?" Stephen shouted. "Well, let's get going then!" Tyler eyed him, but did not say anything. He had to give credit to the kid-he'd make a hell of an NCO some day. Tyler walked to a new position this time, facing the central plaza. Stephen moved back to Tyler's old position.

Tyler eyed the first ghoul clambering up from the ground. It seemed to hoist itself up from the earth in a backwards position, like it was on some invisible "Frankenstein" table. The sergeant lined up on the physics-defying bastard and pulled the trigger. The round tore through the ghoul's skull and sent it sprawling on the floor, dead once more. _At least the M1911's all I need right now,_ Tyler thought. _But for how long'll that last? _Another zombie crawled its way from the dirt and Tyler took a bead. It began to march forward, and the Marine opened fire. The first round only grazed the ghoul's head, a near miss. The second, however, caught it in the throat and took it down. A third shot at the staggered monster finished it. Tyler looked at his hands in frustration-they were trembling.

-  
Michael was having a surprisingly easy time of it. The next ghoul to show up from the murky forest wore bandages, and seemed a hell of a lot more 'fresh' than the others. _Some poor bastard must have died and come back. _Michael thought with sympathy. _No-one should have that happen to them_. A single pistol round ended the ghoul's life in a heartbeat. The body burned away to dust before his eyes. _This One-Fifteen stuff is damn powerful, _Michael thought as he scanned for targets. _What could do that? And how?_ Somewhere in the building lay the answers, he realized. But where?

"There's a lot of 'em coming from the plaza, Mike!" Jacob shouted. "Can you give me a hand?" Michael sighed, and was about to walk away when something caught his eyes. A chalk outline of an M1 Garand was etched on the wall. Michael knew what to do. He snagged it, and then moved up to the window where Jake stood. The young Marine oggled the weapon. "Where'd you get that?" He asked. Michael gestured to the incinerator room. Jacob sighed, then jogged in. He came right back out only a second later.

"Have fun?" Michael asked, dryly.

"Fuck you." Jake panted in reply. Outside, the zombies got closer and closer. Pistol fire came from the other side of the doors as a few monsters made their way towards Tyler and Stephen.

"Let's draw their attention." Michael ordered, leveling the heavy but familiar rifle. The first ghoul to enter the Garand's pin-hole sights was staggering towards the sergeant's side of the asyulm. Michael squeezed the trigger, and the rifle barked loudly. The round took the zombie's head clean off. The ghoul paced about for a milisecond before falling to the ground. Michael laughed absurdly. "Chicken zombies." He muttered.

"What?" Jake called, lowering his rifle?

"It's like when you cut a chicken's head off." Michael replied. "It'll run around for a second, then die." Jacob rolled his eyes, and went back to shooting.

-  
The crack of an American-made rifle was a pleasant surprise for Tyler. "Sounds like Michael found a new toy." He muttered. The rifles were making quick work of the plaza ghouls. It was about time Tyler and Stephen would head up before their pistols became useless. "Come on, Stephen," Tyler barked. The marine appeared by his side in a heart-beat.

"Here, Sarge." The kid said. "We going up?" Tyler nodded.

"I'll pay, you look for any good gear or intel. Tyler said. Stephen nodded, and the two walked to the destroyed staircase. "Ready?" He asked. Stephen nodded, readying his pistol for any hostile company. Slowly, Tyler put his hand on the stairs, and felt a familiar jab. A bolt of lightning struck the debris, and levitated the rubble up and away. Tyler eyed the event with facination, even though he had seen it before. Stephen ran ahead and bounded up the stairs.

"Hey, Sarge; it's clear up here!" Stephen shouted. "I found some stuff!" Tyler sighed, and slowly went up the stairs. _No need to wear myself out yet, _Tyler thought. Tyler found Stephen standing next to a large pile of rubble, a small thread-bare teddy sitting on top.

"Well, that's odd." Tyler muttered. He eyed the bear, which stared back at him with dead bead eyes. "Looks like someone put it there." Stephen nodded.

"Was thinking the same thing." The marine pointed up at a small doorway leading to a balcony. Intimidating coils hung from the top of the doorway. "I have no idea what those are." Stephen admitted.

"I don't really think I want to." Tyler replied, honestly. The prongs seemed to glisten with some internal light. "What else you got?"

"Another one of those creepy vending machines." Stephen reported. "A shotgun, and some kinda sub-machine gun."

"MP-40, I'll bet." Tyler guessed. "The SMG is probably our best choice for us here."

"Got it, Sarge." Stephen replied, but Tyler didn't seem to hear him. Suddenly the world fell away from him, and his mind was gone.

-  
Michael had no way to track how things were going upstairs, but he trusted his friend. _I hope he doesn't find anything he shouldn't, _Michael thought, nervously. "Clear your sights, and keep your head straight." He said, calmly. "I'll go make sure they don't flank us." Mike turned to see soemthing he had been unconciously ignoring. A small blue machine lay against the wall, inert. _A vending machine? _Michael thought. _What's it doing here?_ The logical part of the Corpsman's mind was trying and failing to put two and two together in any way that was not nonsensical. Michael eyed the logo, an image of a man springing from the grave one last time before passing it by on the way to his post.

-  
Tyler opened his eyes to see a location that was a far cry from the orange-tint of the asylum. It was dark, empty, but not devoid of life. There standing, or rather _floating_, before him was a little girl. "What the hell?" Tyler shouted, surprised by the alien environment. The girl put her hands up in a calming motion, trying desperately to prevent the Sergeant from panicking. But Tyler could see her yellow eyes, and began to freak out all the same.

"Calm down." The girl said, her voice both different and oddly familiar at the same time; unearthly all the same. "You are safe." Slowly Tyler stopped trying to find a way out, but eyed her suspiciously.

"You." Tyler said, finally recognizing her voice. "You're the girl from the airfield." The child nodded.

"My name is Samantha Maxis." She said, kindly. "What is yours?"

"Uh," Tyler started. "Tyler Willis." He answered, staring at Samantha with a mix of fascination and fear. "Who _are_ you?"

"I am trapped here, _Herr_ Willis, but I cannot leave until someone terrible is stopped." Samantha replied, Tank blinking in surprise at the sudden German digression. "There is something evil coming soon, and all I can do is try to stop him." She looked straight into Tyler's eyes. The Sergeant could swear that he could see a pupil behind the light. "I need your help."

-  
NEXT:_ As the Soviets draw nearer, the Marines must work with the mysterious Samantha to find and destroy key objects in the asylum. But a dark choice is approaching for Sam and her new "allies". Can Tyler get the job done while being hunted by an enemy no longer uncontrolled? Find out next time in_ Chapter Five: Verruckt.

**Author's Post Note: **Well, things _have _changed some since I left you off. I am eagerly awaiting to get my hands on Black Ops II and begin writing the story, although Youtube has begun feeding the fire. I will continue writing it over the holiday, and the next chapter will be ready for reading either later this month or before the end of January. Keep of the fire, everyone, and have a Merry Christmas and a Happy Hannukah!


	5. Chapter Five: Verruckt

Chapter Five: Verruckt

**PREVIOUSLY: **_The four Marines from the airfield have been sent into a trap. In order to survive, Tyler must work with the mysterious _Samantha Maxis, _but is she truly on the Sergeant's side? For things are not as they seem in a place built for the _Verruckt.

Tyler's eyes snapped back open, the mysterious place vanishing from his eyes. He held in his hand something he did not remember picking up, and had memories of a location he never physically visited. Stephen looked at him, concerned. "You okay, Sarge?" The Lance-Corporal asked. Tyler swollowed hard before answering.

"Yeah, I'm fine." He lied, looking down at what he held. It was a list written in a child's handwwriting, each line displaying the name of some document spread out across the asylum. The first one on the list caught his eye. _Use of 115 as Power_, it read. _Location-Generator Room_.

"What's that?" Stephen asked as Tyler glanced up from the paper to the flickering blue glow coming from a window outside. Tyler didn't know what to say, so he lied... to a point.

"It's a list of shit we need to burn before Ivan shows." Tyler said, slowly. "The doc gave it to me over the radio." The explanation seemed to suit the kid well enough, and he nodded.

"What's up first?" Tyler shoook his head, more memories of the forgotten conversation returning. _I cannot help you until the power is on, _a spectral voice whispered.

"First thing's first, kid." Tyler replied. "We've got to get things wokring so the others can catch up." Stephen nodded, but before either of them could take a step, the sounds of moans came from behind a wall.

-  
Michael was being swarmed by a good half-dozen ghouls. He fired the M1 once, twice, three times, but for every head eviscerated another two took its place. Slowly but surely, Mike was being overwhelmed. The rifle dinged as the now-empty clip jumped clear of the rifle, and the corpsman slammed a new one in. "Shit." He muttered, leveling the rifle and firing again. Michael could hear Jacob cursing.

"Damn!" The marine shouted. "They're getting in on the other side!" His voice was spaced inbetween cracks of his rifle. Michael couldn't do anything about it, though. Not until his area was clear. His M1 fired steadily, even shots, and finally the last zombie at his window collapsed, a hole through it's head. Smiling, Mike turned and walked to Jake, who was shooting anything that moved. Michael could see though that the zombies were getting inside, all of them another threat to Tyler. But nothing was getting in her, and it was time to relax.

"Cease fire, eel-cee." Michael said, placing his arm on the soldier's shoulder. Jacob slowly lowered his rifle. "Tyler will have to deal with them now."

"So, now what?" Jake asked, frustrated. Mike turned to face another locked door, near the blue machine. A voice in his ear, so soft he didn't even notice, told him it was openable.

"We keep moving through the asylum, try to find things worth keeping." Michael replied. "Come on, let's go."

-  
The wall crumbled before their eyes as the ghouls pounded at the weakened substructure. Tyler raised his pistol and fired, catching one with a lucky eye-shot. The zombie collapsed with a moan, but it's comrades in death persisted, unnoticing. "Go!" Tyler shouted. "Get moving!" Stephen ran to the outline of the MP-40 and laid his hand against it. The Lance Corporal doubled over, and painfully straightened back up. He returned to Tyler's side in a heart-beat, his MP-40 clattering away at the oncroaching ghouls. To the right, down the stairs, came the sounds of more.

"Ah, hell!" Stephen cursed. "Get youreslf a gun, Sarge!" Tyler nodded, and ran to the outline. He grimaced when he grabbed the weapon, but not just from the pain. This asylum would be a bitch of a place to fight in: Small, cramped quarters, tight corners, and several ways into the fighting space only made the job more difficult. _Shit, this is gonna be tough, _Tyler thought darkly. The sergeant returned to Stephen's side, and opened fire as the horde of undead creatures came closer and closer.

He returned to Stephen to find a good fifteen zombies slowly coming up the stairs. Tyler leveled the weapon against his shoulder and tapped the trigger, the MP-40 clattering. The stream of bullets had a horrific effect on the zombies before them. Heads burst into fine red mists, hands came flying into the air like gory bottle rockets, and bullet-ridden bodies hit the floor. Tyler and Stephen threw away their 32-round box magazines and loaded new ones. "I think that's it." Tyler muttered. "Let's get going." The two paced down the hall towards another locked door. Through a thick window, he could see urinals and showerheads. "Must be the bathroom." Tyler muttered. He placed his palm on the door, and watched as it slid open. Stephen walked in first.

"Clear." The Lance Corporal said after a heartbeat. "I see two ways in." Tyler grimaced, but pressed on. Stephen looked at him as the sergeant walked in. "Hey, I thought were were here to grab shit, not burn it." Stephen suddenly said, confused. Tyler sighed-he couldn't hide it forever.

"I... _ran in _to our little friend." Tyler admitted after a heartbeat. "The Soviets are coming, and if they get their hands on this shit, the world's as good as fucked." _Our home is in danger, Tyler_, a ghostly voice echoed in his head. _Nothing must leave this place._ The memory of the odd agreement between Tyler and the mysterious Samantha Maxis reverberated in his skull. Some part of him did not trust her and her yellow eyes, but at the same time she had helped them through the airfield.

"I don't like it, Sarge." Stephen replied, slowly. "She knows too much."

"For now, she's to be considered an operational asset." Tyler replied, curtly. "I don't want to hear about this shit anymore, understood?" Slowly, Stephen nodded. "Alright." Tyler said, walking up to a door leading to a blue-lit room. "This must be it." _And where one of the papers are, _Tyler thought to himself.

-  
The next room over was a mess. Broken pipes poured water onto the ground in exhorbant amounts, to Michael's dry amusement. _We coulda used some of that on Tarawa, _he thought grimly. To the corpsman's relief, no bodies lay on the floor, no dogtags, nothing that meant that Tank had died here. _I don't know where that bastard is, but he's not here, _Michael thought. Something caught his eye-a half-buried leather bound book. Kneeling, Mike picked it up. It was a diary of some kind, that or a research journal. The notes were, surprisingly, in English, and every last entry was filed out by a Doctor Richtofen._ What's this? _Michael thought, flipping through the pages.

The journal spoke about the 'Der Riese facility', 'Element One-Fifteen', a mysterious base in asia, teleporation experiments, and even about a 'Wunderwaffe DG-2'. _Odd that this is hte only thing in German, _Michael thought. The part that caught his eye though was something about a facility being built in Siberia, and a Super-Soldier program. Before Michael could read more, something roared and the lights flickered.

-  
The door opened at Stephen's touch, revealing a grizly scene: Blood was tracked all over the floor, and something red dripped like a metronome. On the power switch was a human hand, the rest of it's owner torn away. "Shit, this must have been bad." Stephen muttered.

"No, really?" Tyler replied, dryly. He started looking for the first item on the list. "Get the power on while I'm looking." Stephen glared at him.

"And how do I do that?" He replied. "There could be a procedure or something." Tyler sighed, and marched right up to the gruesome switch. He gingerly put his hand on the switch, careful not to touch the arm, and pushed it up. The room coursed with energy. Two generators behind them both flashed, roaring up to full power. Lights flickered on all across the asylum, power-lines burning as energy surged through them. Somewhere, a radio screeched to life, snippets of songs filling the air. Then, something laughed; something evil and inhuman, just before a pre-recorded message ran through the building's PA system.

"All staff-members, be advised:" The voice said, clearly. "The Shield is now active." The message repeated 'active' before silencing itself with an electronic howl. Tyler blanched and looked at Stephen.

"I told you there was a procedure." The Lance Corporal replied, chidingly. The terror on his face betrayed him.

-  
Michael heard the chilling announcement only a second after hearing what sounded like an eerie whirring noise above him. "What's that noise?" He asked after a second.

"Dunno, man." Jacob replied. "Probably some electronics kicking in." Michael nodded when something loud buzzed behind him. Michael looked down the hal to see that the massive steel door had slid open.

"Hey, it's open!" Michael shouted. Jacob cried out, happily. "Come on, let's meet up with the guys." Michael pocketed the book, and started running through the decrepit asylum.

The two found Tyler and Stephen burning a large folder against Tyler's lighter. "Hey, what the hell are you doing?" Michael shouted, surprised. Tyler looked up at the Corporal, and sighed.

"I ran into that little girl, Mike." Tyler replied, slowly. "According to her, the stuff in this could tip things over. If the Reds get their hands on it, we can say good-bye to everything we know." The sergeant shook his head, throwing the burning foldier to the ground. "So the mission's changed-burn the documents, then we trash the place." Michael grimaced, but nodded all the same-as much as he didn't like the situation, he trusted his commander; he'd gotten them this far, after all. Still, something bothered him.

"What do you mean, 'ran into'?" Mike asked, suspiciously. Tyler frowned, and waved his hand, flippant.

"Man, I don't fucking know. One moment I'm standing next to Stephen, the next I'm in some dark room and there she fucking is." Tyler said after a second. "All I know is that she's not who we think she is, but as long as she's not out to get us, we're fine."

"She's probably like seven, Ty." Michael shot back. "What could she do?" The look that Tyler shot at him chilled his blood, and the corpsman fell quiet. His eyes fell on a _very_ familiar box. "Hey, what's that doing here?" Mike asked, confused.

"Hell if I know, I'm just glad that it's around." Tyler replied. "Open it up if you want." Slowly Michael approached, and flipped open the cover. Light spilled out of it, and from the depths raised a German-made MG-42. Carefully, Mike grabbed it, aware of the sudden fatigue. Information rushed through his mind, and in a second the corpsman was an expert with the heavy machine gun. Tyler grinned at him, and held out a scrap of paper. Written on it ran lines of text, one of which had been crossed out with a thick black streak, though to Michael it looked almost like it had been burnt.

"This is an inventory of every worth-while document in this shit-hole." Tyler said. "Some of them are going to be on your half of this place, some are gonna be on mine." He tore the list in half, and handed a section to the corpsman. "Find everything on there, burn it, and then head back here." Michael nodded, walking to a locked door nearby.

"Good luck, Ty." Michael said. Tyler gave his friend a thumbs-up in return. _He's going to need it, _Michael thought, staring at the list. The first item stared right back up at him: _Doctor Richtofen's Research Diary._

_-  
_Tyler looked at his list, and grimaced. There was an item on the lower floor, by the operating table. _Reanimation Expirament_, it seemed to be called. Tyler sighed and readied his MP-40. "Okay, Stephen, let's go." The Lance Corporal eyed the second door open where Michael and Stephen had passed moments before. Tyler knew what he was thinking. "They'll be okay, and they'll deal with any ghouls trying to flank us." Something outside howled, and the sergeant grimaced.

"They'll be on us soon." Stephen said, quietly. Tyler nodded, and started jogging through the empty halls. The sounds of incoming monsters grew by the second as the two ran down the stairs and into the main room. The blood-spattered operating room lay before them. In any corner could lay their target for destruction.

"Alright, cover me." Tyler said, stepping inside, into the mess. Stephen turned to see the horde approaching. The Lance Corporal readied his weapon and took a breath. The clatter of gunfire came from behind Tyler a second later, but as much as the marine wanted to turn and fight, he couldn't until the document had been found. He located it a heartbeat later in a cabinet. The lighter came out, and incinerated the thing whole. _That's one down_, Tyler thought as he spun around, his MP-40 barking in his hands. _I wonder how well Mike is doing?_

-  
The rom before them was clearly a kitchen, but it had seen better days. Maybe once upon a time the marble tiles had shone from their polish. Now dried blood matted the walls, and the brown-red colour essentially was the new palor of the floor. On top of a counter were hundreds of spent shell casings and dozens of weapon magazines. To Michael's relief, no blood was to be found on the counter-top at all. _Good on them_, the corpsman thought.

In actuality, Michael's first target had been the research journal he had stumbled across earlier and was now hidden away in his jacket. Something seemed off to him about destroying the work, and if the nagging feeling in the back of his head prouncing this all as a trap was correct, it would be beneficial to hold onto at least something to give to Oppenhiemer. The next thing down was a bit more unusual than Michael was used to. _Scientific Notes on Soldier-Enhancing Soft Drinks_, the list read. Michael frowned at that-so far as he knew, Coca-Cola did very little to make you a better Marine. Still, if it had to go, it would. According to the list, the file was somewhere inside the kitchen. Outside, something howled. "Buy me time, Jake." Michael said. The Lance Corporal nodded, and readied his heavy M1 Garand. Michael poked through every cubbard, every hole, anything that could hide the papers as the maons grew louder and more fierce. The corpsman was about to give up and join his comrade when he noticed something slightly out of place on the wall. Moving to it, he was surprised to see that it was a false panel, revealing a secret safe. The lock on it was imposing, but Mike didn't have the time to figure it out.

"They'll be on us in ten seconds!" Stephen shouted, firing his rifle. Michael growled, raised his weapon, and fired at the lock. The MG-42's heavy rounds penetrated clean through the padlock, swinging it open to reveal the hidden paper. _Why would they hide it?_ Mike wondered as he threw a "Ronson" match into the safe and watched as the fires claimed it all. _Something tells me that things weren't very rosy here._

-  
The clatter of gunfire was deafening as both Tyler and Stephen opened fire on the encroaching horde. They came from every way in imaginable, and Tyler found himself whacking ghouls with the butt of his weapon to keep them from overwhelming him with sheer numbers. Tyler's back was, quite literally, to the wall, and if he couldn't find a way out, he'd be a dead man. The oppertunity came as the ghouls made their way around the operating table. For just second, it was possible to blow past them and out-pace the zombies. Tyler had no time to think of any options. The instant the ghouls reached that critical point, Tyler sprinted forwards, firing his weapon recklessly from the hip. The monsters, almost surprised, tried to wheel around but found themselves face to face with their undead comrades. Stephen, who had just fought off a few trying to pin him to the floor, opened fire with Tyler, delivering a devistating cross-fire. The last zombie collapsed to the floor, it's eyes a dull, colourless white.

"Christ, that was pretty hairy." Stephen muttered. "You okay, Sarge?" Tyler looked back at him, panting heavily.

"Yeah, I'm fine." Tyler replied, dropping the spent magazine out of the MP-40 and slamming a new one home. The sergeant eyed the broken-down vending machine nearby, now alive with a dull internal light. "Do you think that's any good? I could use a drink." Stephen shrugged.

"We're gonna get bounced around a lot." Stephen replied. "If it really _does_ make you a tougher SOB, we could use it." Tyler couldn't help but whole-heartedly agree with the Lance Corporal's tactical analysis. The asylum may be larger than the bunker, but it's hallways were much thinner, and already there were more than three times as many ways in than at the airfield. The fact was self-evident: the Marines wouldn't be getting out of this without some bruises.

"Let's hope it ain't a rip-off." Tyler said, putting his hand on the imposing vending machine. He could feel the transfer, and heard both the sound of a glass bottle hitting the dispensing hole and a jazzy jingle. Tyler bent over and picked up the bottle. Inside was a thick red fluid the sergeant had never seen before. He wrenched the cap off, the juice inside hissing with carbonation. Putting the bottle to his mouth, he drained it as quick as he could, then threw the bottle away. Despite the viscous appearance, the drink went down quick and easy, and tasted of cherries. _Not bad, _Tyler thought, surprised. _I guess scientists appreciate a good tasting drink like the rest of us._ Tyler waited for a second, and nothing seemed to happen. Suddenly, a tingling sensation rippled across his body, which vanished as quickly as it came. Stephen eyed him, wary.

"You okay, Sarge?" The Marine asked. Tyler shuddered as the effects vanished.

"Yeah." He replied, nodding. "Now to see if it actually did anything." He eyed Stephen. "Hit me." The young soldier eyed him, then delivered a haymaker to Tyler's right cheek. The punch landed, but to Tyler it felt like someone had blown air on him. Stephen recoiled at the impact, shaking his hand.

"Ow, _fuck_!" Stephen shouted. "Jesus, what the hell?" Tyler couldn't help but chuckle at the Lance Corporal's reaction.

"I guess it worked, huh?" Tyler said, dryly. "Go snag yourself some." Stephen eyed him, then grabbed a bottle. The Lance Corporal trembled as the effects washed over him.

"Do you think it's perminant?" Stephen asked. Tyler shrugged.

"They must have had some kind of issue for this not to be front-line, but it couldn't have been too bad if they just left it here in the halls." Tyler replied, sagely. Stephen, meanwhile, threw away the empty bottle.

"So, now what?" The Marine asked, holding his MP-40 with one hand. Tyler pulled out his half of the list, and found to his surprised that a dark line had appeared over the name of the destroyed document. _She's a lot stronger than I thought_, Tyler noted darkly. _She can screw around with stuff physically._ The next item on the list was located upstairs, a user manual for the 'DG-1'. _Ray Gun_, his mind filled in for him.

-  
The next item on the "burn list" would have to wait as the horde began to flood the room. Michael deployed the '42's bipod on the kitchen counter-top and let loose, "Hitler's Buzzsaw" cleaving a path through the zombie horde at one thousand two hundred rounds per minute. The sound of the weapon was intense, and immediately the Corpsman wished he had brough along some form of ear protection. Incredibly, the moans of the undead still cut through the drowning roar. The flow of the zombies was non-stop, them pressing on more and more. The MG-42 clicked as one of it's drum magazines emptied. "Fuck!" Michael snarled, ripping the clip away and slamming a new one in. "This one takes too damn long!" He pulled the trigger, and let the bulletstorm continue. The carnage was intense-body parts often found themselves apart from their owners and airborne bound, though never for long. Eventually, though, the flow began to die down. Finally, the floodgates closed, and the room was silent. Michael looked down to see dozens, if not hundred of new shell casings covering his shoes.

"That was close." Jacob said after a second. Michael slowly nodded.

"Alright, let's find that next piece." Michael said, pulling out his list. A black line had gone through the name of the now crispy document. _How the..?_ Mike thought, alarmed. _How did she do that?_ He shuddered at the find, then refocused on the next item. _Group 935 Research Facilities, _the list read. _Located in Inmate Quarter's Six_. Michael grimaced-he was not fond of the idea of going into the room of a madman. "Get the door open, Jake." Michael ordered. The Lance Corporal nodded, and triggered the next blocade to slink back into the walls with a buzz. Michael stepped through to see far from what he expected. A massive green vending machine stood before him, labeled "Speed Cola". A small green image was plastered on it, showing a hand grabbing a weapon magazine. _Huh__, _Michael thought. "I wonder if it helps you reload or something." He muttered aloud. Jake whistled, impressed.

"Maybe." He said. "Give it a whirl if you want, but I'll just stay out here." Jacob crossed his arms, and waited patiently. Tentatively, Michael bought the drink and took off the cap. The soda fizzed like a can of coke, but was a thick green mixture. Slowly, he downed the drink before chucking the bottle. The effects washed over his arms and fingers, and Michael could almost feel them become more agile and quick. "Well?" Jacob asked.

"I think it worked." Michael said after a moment. "Snag it if you want-I'm going to find that file." He walked a little to the left to find a doorway. Michael eyed a sign next to it, which read "6". _Conveniant_, Michael thought as he stepped inside. What he found was far from it.

-  
The list confirmed Tyler's suspicions-only one more remained on his list, and it was at the balcony he had checked out upon coming up the stairs. _Tesla Coils as Weapons_, the list read. Dimly Tyler could remember something about Nikolai Tesla-something about electricity? Tyler couldn't help but applaud the group there: the stuff was damned dangerous on it's own-to make a weapon out of it would make it a hell of a lot more dangerous. "Come on, Stephen, we're going upstairs." The sergeant said. "Last one, then we can trash the place."

"Alright, let's get this done." Stephen muttered, readying his MP-40 for anything. Together the two went up the stairs and up to the balcony entrance.

The balcony's odd pretrusions still bothered Tyler in the back of his mind, but it did not matter right now. A power-box was plugged into the door, a green light above it. _Must be the controls for whatever-the-fuck it's plugged into,_ Tyler thought. _Best not to dick around with it._ "Start looking for that pamphlet." Tyler said, readying his MP-40. The sound of digging came from the plaza, as well as the noise of wood being torn away everywhere else.

"Our friends are back..." Stephen muttered, firing some pot shots. "They'll cut us off from the power room."

"I know." Tyler replied bitterly. "Find that paper!" Stephen started poking around while Tyler put his hand on another power box nearby. Stephen glared at him.

"What are you doing?" The Lance Corporal asked, eyeing the lever.

"I'm going to play a hunch." Tyler replied. "Stay away from the doors." Stephen backed awkwardly away, sifting through the debris for the missing file. Tyler eyed both ways, gripping the lever. As soon as the first yellow-eyed bastard approached, he flipped the switch. The result was what Tyler hoped would happen, but still surprising. The space began to flicker white as blanched bolts of lighting streaked from the unusual bulbs on the top of the doorframe to recieving nodes at the bottom. The ghouls tried stupidly to run through, but were incinerated totally, bursting into flames as their heads exploded, white light bursting from every pore. "Hot damn!" Tyler yelled.

"Shit!" Stephen said, surprised. "Damn, I wouldn't mind lugging one of those around." He went back to searching for a second, then grinned as he picked up a small dirty paper. "Found it."

"Throw it in." Tyler said, grinning confidently. The paper jumped into the line of fire, and incinerated in a flash of blue flame. Before it completely burned, Tyler could make out a name. _Doctor E. Richtofen, _and the heading of some random page, _Tesla Coils in use of the DG-2_. _DG-2? _Tyler thought, startled. _You mean them made something that uses this tech?_ Before he could think more on it, both the flow of zombies and electricity stopped. A red light appeared above the box, signifying that it was inoperable, at least for a time. "Come on, let's find the others." Tyler said, walking carefully over the smoldering corpses.

-  
It was unlike anything Michael had ever seen before. The floor was plastered in dried blood, and the room smelled of death and insanity. But worst of all were the walls. Writing and pictured covered every inch of the space, all of it in perfectly legible English. But the person who had been here had not written this in ink, but in blood. Mike felt stick to his stomach as he looked at the insane messages. A bible verse was on one side, a riddle on another. The picture of a falling star in one corner was mirrored by the image of a child's teddy bear. Jacob walked in, and stopped dead. "What the fuck is this?" He asked. Michael had no answer for him. "Jesus, look at all of that blood!" Jake muttered, mouth open wide in horror.

"They must have used up a lot to write all of this." Mike said, oddly detatched. "A gallon, maybe." He looked at the floor, and the red stains now permenantly ingrained in the floor. "And that must be everything left over." He sighed, uselessly. "Poor bastard must have bleed out and came back." Michael felt a chill run down his spine as he thought of the man's last moments.

"Mike?" Tyler's voice called from behind. Michael replied in a heartbeat.

"Yeah?" He shouted back.

"Where are you?" Tyler yelled, his voice growing louder as he got closer.

"Over here, past the kitchen!" Mike yelped. "You're gonna want to see this."

-  
Tyler walked in to find a slaughterhouse. He felt quesy as he looked at all the red. Michael stood next to him, his face pale. "Whoever wrote this was one of ours, Ty." Michael said, softly. "They didn't make it." Tyler could hear the insinuation, but shook his head.

"This isn't by Tank." He said. Michael sighed, and put a hand on Tyler's shoulder.

"I'm sorry, Ty, but it's gotta be." Mike said, softly. Tyler shook his head, angry, and pulled away.

"No, it really isn't!" He said, forcefully. His eye dilated as an impossible picture began to form before him. The spectral image of a man on all fours appeared before him, a bloody gash on his wrist, appeared. Manically, the poor soul scrawled on the walls with a reddened finger. "I see the guy right now-he must have been a teammate or something."

"See _who_, Ty?" The corpsman said, worried. "Man, there's nobody in here but us. We don't see _anything_." But Tyler couldn't hear his friend anymore-the world was already fading away to midnight black.

-  
The ghostly figure of Samantha Maxis once again floated before Tyler, her golden eyes examining the weary Sergeant. "Oh, it's you." Tyler said, dryly. "Miss me already?" The girl ignored the crack. "What the fuck was that back there?" The Marine pressed.

"That was the work of someone who died here when the asylum fell." Samantha said, plain-faced. "He worked alongside your friend, and killed himself. He went mad in this place." Tyler grimaced.

"Where's Tank?" He asked, glaring at Sam.

"A long way from here." Samantha replied. "Your friend, Doctor Oppenhiemer, lied to you. 'Tank' has been gone for months. He was gone before Der Riese fell." The accusation hung in the air.

"What?" Tyler managed. Samantha looked at him.

"He's a different man now, and is working for my enemy." Samantha continued. "While he doesn't know it, the fact remains-if my enemy finds me, our world is doomed."

"'Your enemy'?" Tyler repeated. "I thought you were worried about the Soviets." Samantha's eyes flashed, fearfully.

"I'm afraid he'll _use_ the Soviets." The girl said. "Anyone who knows anything about Group Nine-Three-Five and what it did-_does-_will only help him." Tyler paled as the hidden statement became clear-a threat.

"You little _bitch_!" He shouted, adrenaline coursing through his viens.

"I'm sorry, Sergeant, but it has to be done." Samantha said. Tyler's face sharpened with rage.

"Like hell you will!" Tyler shouted, but the world began to fade away. Tyler returned to hear the roar of frantic gunfire.

"So be it." Her spectral voice whispered, more sad than angry. Tyler turned to see Mike.

"We've been played, Mike." Tyler said, the world slowly returning to colour. "If we don't blow the Shield, and soon, we're dead."

-  
**NEXT**: _The end is come. Betrayed by Samantha, the Marines must fight desperately to survive against Samantha's horde. However, not everything is as it seems, and even Samantha finds herself in the center of a moral quandary, complicated by the intervention of mysterious visitors... Find out how it all ends in _Chapter Six: Lullabye for a Dead Man.


	6. Chapter Six: Lullabye for a Dead Man

Chapter Six: Lullabye for a Dead Man

**PREVIOUSLY: **_The four Marines have fought their way through an abandoned insane asylum-turn Group 935 research facility. At the behest of _Samantha Maxis, _the squad has destroyed valuable documents that could, in the wrong hands, bring about the end of the world as we know it. However, with the papers gone, Samantha betrays the team, and is now hunting them down. If Tyler and his comrades are to survive, they must find and destroy the _Shield_, or perish in the home of the _Verruckt.

Reality continued to re-assert itself to Tyler, the black fading away as the bloodstained room slowly regained colour. Michael looked at him, a stunned expression on his face. "Ty, what do you mean?" The corpsman was shouting. "What do you mean by 'played'?" The sergeant blinked, refocusing before answering.

"We know too much, so she's cleaning shop!" The sergeant replied, the gunfire all around him nearly drowning him out under the din. "She doesn't want anything leaving this place, not even us!"

"But she helped us at the airfield!" Michael yelled back, panic in his voice. "Why would she stab us in the back?"

"She controls the ghouls!" Tyler shouted. Michael's face went pale. "I should'a figured it out when I sw her eyes, but she's running the show. Maybe she's always been running hte show. The airfield must have been some kind of test, trying to see who could survive long enough to do what she wants." The corpsman's whitened visage flushed angrily at the revelation.

"That manipulative _bitch!_" Michael cussed, his fists balling angrily. "She makes run through this damn place fighting off hundreds of undead SOBs, and when we're done with her fucking treasure hunt, she tries to kill us?" Tyler could feel the tension in the room rise.

"You know how this is gotta end." Tyler replied, standing up. "We've got to find and destroy the Shield." He leveled his MP-40 and walked to the doorway. Stephen and Jacob were already there, firing their weapons at the encroaching horde. The ghouls were flooding the hallls before them, a mass of yellow eyes and necrotic flesh. "Alright, I'll help the guys hold the front!" Tyler barked.

"I'll stay here!" Michael shouted, gesturing to a window. Tyler looked at Mike's MG-42, then back up at the corpsman.

"Switch." They both muttered, trading each other's spots. The unmistakable roar of the machine gun filled the air a second later, the weapon's muzzle flash blinding as the characteristic growl of the weapon broke through the howls. Tyler focused on the window, and soon enough four zombies rounded the corner. They sprinted at Tyler, and he hosed them down with his sub-machine gun. The gun chattered, the recoil bucking the weapon in his plms with every shot. The ghouls took the fire a little longer than usual, but still fell. Tyler grimaced-they were getting stronger and stronger still. With the window clear, Tyler turned his attention back to the embattled front. Before he moved, though, some things on the floor caught his eye-several small slips of paper strewn about in the blood, and two camera negatives. The images on them were of the room, as if someone had come back and recorded it all. _If I get out of this, I'm going to need everything I can get, _Tyler thought. _Then I'm going to get the truth out of Doc Oppenhiemer. _The sergeant's eyes narrowed at the thought of the scientist-turn-spook. Doctor Oppenhiemer had lied to Tyler; he had not told the truth about the mission, and he had not told the truth about the asylum itself. Tank had been gone far longer than the Marine had remembered, or thought he remembered. Oppenhiemer had not sent the team in to find what happened to Tank-they had been sent in to grab the docs and run. _Bastard pretty much wrote Tank off._

"We're clear!" Stephen suddenly shouted, breaking Tyler from his trance. The din of gunfire echoed away eeriely into the halls of the asylum. Tyler got to his feet, warily. "You okay, Sarge?" The Lance Corporal asked.

"Yeah, I'm fine, but we're not." Tyler replied, grim. "Our 'friend' has been playing us the whole time." Stephen eyed him, confused.

"What do you mean, 'playing us'?" Stephen asked, incredulous. "She helped us at the airfield!" Tyler shook his head.

"She's the big undead kahuna, Marines." Tyler countered, solemn. "To make things worse, Oppenhiemer lied-Tank's been gone for friggen months, maybe longer. He's nowhere around here now." _At least he's alive_, Tank added in his head with a sigh. "We gotta destroy the Shield and get the fuck outta here, or we're as good as dead." The room fell quiet.

"We're gonna need the Ray Gun." Jacob muttered. Tyler nodded.

"Let's see if it's inside." He replied, dropping an empty box magazine for his MP-40 and slamming in a new one. He turned to face Michael, his face still contorted with rage. Tyler handed the papers in the palm of his hand over to the corpsman, who looked at them surprised. "Hold onto these, alright?" The sergeant half-asked, half-commanded.

"Yeah, sure." Mike replied, grabbing them and stuffing them inside his shirt. He tucked them in a pocket next to where Mike had hid the journal. Tyler nodded, and started walking through the long-damned halls, the squad slowly trailing behind him.

-  
Samantha's head was never quiet. Voices whispered in her ear, memories running through her mind, and her own screams broke up the noise only enough to remind her that she was still alive. Sometimes, though, she couldn't even tell if she was truly _anything _anymore. At least she was never alone.

She was above everything, and yet at the same time she was right there on the ground with her army of monsters. Sometimes she could even project an image of herself onto the Earth and use it as an "avatar", but it took a lot of energy to do it, and was far easier just to transport someone else's conciousness than to move herself. It was funny, she thought-her father had read her so many stories of knights and wizards, heroes and villains. She had smiled as the knights came to the rescue of the princess and stopped the terrible whatever-it-was that threatened happily ever after. Now, _she_ was the dragon, the evil wizard, the scheming member of the king's court fighting against man.

At the same time though, she wasn't truly against humanity. At the airfield, she had lost control, weakened from the long distance she had came and unable to muster the strength to control the horde. She watched, helplessly, as her burden broke free and slaughtered an army. Here, though, at the asylum, she had finally regained her former strength, as well as learned a few tricks. Her teachers were good ones, and took especial interest in their young protoge, despite her displacement.

The power was incredible, Sam reflected, but overwhelming. She could do or see anything she wished. She knew when people slept, and she knew what they were dreaming. She knew when they were weeping, and what they were thinking. To anyone else, it would have given them the power to accomplish their darkest desires and give them delusions of graunder. But Samantha wasn't anyone else-she was a little girl who's father was gone, and was tasked by something beyond anything she could ever imagine to do one thing: protect the Earth.

It was not an easy job. She knew who her true enemy was, but at the same time she did not trust the nations of the world, the nations that had forced her father to work for the Germans. She found herself suddenly torn, regret echoing through her tired body-the Americans below were the only people she had talked to since she had arrived, and had trusted her with their safety. At the same time, if any form of knowledge left the asylum...

"We're going to need to find the Ray Gun." One of the Americans said. Samantha's glowing eyes narrowed. _Now or never, Sam_, she thought. She squinted, focused on the "mystery box", and sought out the gun made so long ago... but she couldn't do it. She couldn't damn these men like that-they were like Samantha, played by things higher than them. Her mind trailed as she whimpered to the teddy bear she held close in her hands. An idea hit her, an insane thought. _A game, _one of the voices harped at her. _Just like before! _Samantha nodded, knowing that the move would silence the ever-present voices in her head long enough to think of the fate of the men below.

The Teddy Bear waited.

-  
"Come on, we don't have a lot of time!" Tyler barked, moving into the power room. He put his hand on the box and felt the exchange run through his fingers. The box flipped open on its own accord, and weapons flished in mid-air. For a second, Tyler could see the Ray Gun, but it vanished like a cruel tease. The roulette stopped suddenly on a worn-looking child's bear. The thing looked mottled and old, one of it's ears nearly worn off and the eyes unpolished marbles. "What the hell?" The Marine muttered, caught off-guard. The sound of a little girl's laughter, young and innocent, filled the room, and suddenly Tyler knew who was responsible. The insane hyena-laugh that followed was anything but human, and a bolt of lighting seemed to be rapturing the box, taking it sky-ward.

"Bye-bye!" Something that sounded suspiciously like a ghoul spat out, smugly. Before Tyler could say or do anything, the box was gone. The room fell silent.

"No!" Tyler shouted, angrily. "No, no, she _can't_ do that!" The box had vanished, and with it went Tyler's hopes.

"It's gone." Stephen said, softly. The young soldier eyed the debris pile, at first hopelessly. Then, after a second, he harumphed. "Waiddaminute, haven't we seen that pile before?" Tyler turned, and found himself staring at a teddy bear crowning a mess. A _very_ familiar mess, in fact. It was an exact copy of debris he had noticed while he paced the halls of the asylum, never paying attention, never truly noticing.

"Yeah, we have..." Tyler muttered, scratching his chin. "There's one by the stairs, one by the Juggernog machine-"

"The _what_ machine?" Jacob interrupted. Tyler shot a dirty look at the younger, and he fell silent, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly.

"We saw a few, but never paid any attention to them." Mike said, some enthusiasm returning to his step. "You don't think-?"

"-That those piles of shit are places where the box jumps?" Tyler finished, grinning. "Gents, I think we might still be in this." He faced the room, his MP-40 held laxly. "We'll break into two teams again-Stephen and I will check our half, and you two dipshits check the other. Give a holler when you find it, and let's hope we get really fuckin' lucky. Oorah?" The Sergeant said the last word in a gruff, full-on leatherneck tone.

"Oorah, bitch!" Jacob shouted back, flipping the finger towards the ceiling. "See you in five." Michael grinned with his younger compatriot, and together the two began running back to the kitchen. Stephen and Tyler shared a quick _they're fucking crazy_ look, then started sprinting themselves back into the shower room and into the heart of the asylum.

-  
Michael could hear the next wave coming through the walls, the moans of more and more ghouls coming, but he felt oddly confident. "More of our fans are coming." He said, grinning as he took the safety off his MG-42. It was odd _how_ many monsters 'Sam' was throwing at them. This wasn't like the airfield, where a division had fought, died, and come back. This was a forgotten, sealed off asylum where probably a company-sized garrison and maybe two dozen scientists lived and worked. Given the sheer amount of tracks outside, it was even more likely that not all of them had died, as well. While Michael was not keeping a running score, it seemed like they had killed far more than that number. _Where is she getting all of these things?_ Michael thought, rounding a corner. Two zombies stared right back at him, their yellow eyes seeming to be just as surprised as Michael's chestnut-brown rapidly-dilating eyes. "Ah, fuck me!" Mike shouted as the ghouls moaned, then charged. The corpsman leveled the MG-42 at them, holding it as best as he could, then held down the trigger. The 'buzzsaw' shook every bone in Michael's body, and it felt like it would slide out of his hands, but he held on tight, and the weapon eviscerated the monsters before him. The now-halved zombies slumped to the floor, lifeless, twitching slightly. Mike brought his boot down on each of their skulls, satisfied when they collapsed inwards like a rotten pumpkin, then walked on. Jacob trailed right behind him, and gave a low whistle at his comrade's display of badassitude.

The young Lance Corporal held the M1 Garand in both hands, and followed doggedly behind Michael as they walked through the forgotten halls of the asylum. As they reached a new room, they eyed a blocked stairwell leading downstairs. "That must go to where we were before Sarge got the power on." Jake said after a second. The outline of a shotgun on the wall caught his eye. "I'm going to get an upgrade-cover me." Michael nodded, and took a knee as the horde slowly approached. An idea hit him, and he dropped to prone, deploying the '42's bipod. _Better on the knees, better on the recoil, _Mike thought, firing his first burst into the dark grey horde.

-  
Tyler punched at the ghould that had managed to pin him against the wall. The Juggernog was doing it's job, but even it had its limits, and Tyler was losing the brawl. With all of his might, he brought his right fist around and delivered a brutal haymaker to the ghoul's side of the head. The monster's already-weakened neck and flesh couldn't take the blow, and the head popped off suddenly like a cork. Free from it's embrace, Tyler bransished his knife and began making his way to Stephen, who was in similar trouble. Tyler brought the Ka-Bar down on the first ghoul in his way, plunging the blade deep through it's skull and into it's brain. The zombie collapsed, the fall wrenching the blade clean from it's head as Tyler held firm to the hilt. The next turned to face Tyler, but took a blade to it's "eye", spurting an etheral yellow fluid Tyler did not recognize. The third Tyler tackled, bringing it down to the floor before plunghing the knife down on it's throat. The sharpened blade, discoloured slightly yellow, cut straight through both flesh and bone. It's head rolled free, still gnawing uselessly a second before it's eyes blanched white. Stephen helped Tyler to his feet.

"Thanks." The Sergeant said, wiping dust and zombie grime from his uniform. "Ready for more?" He asked, smiling confidently.

"Fuckin' A, man." Stephen replied. "Let's get it on." The two grinned, and moved on through the halls and towards the staircase, leaving behind them a shower-room and the soft sound of music.

-  
The bipod was a life-saver, Michael thought as the MG-42 in his hands roared. The rounds made quick work of his intended target-the legs of the encroaching horde. The limbs were shattered as the bulletstorm passed through one ghouls and into others. Anything that fell into the deadly field of fire was obliterated. The MG-42 clicked, but already Michael had pulled the drum magazine out and was rapidly slamming a new one home, pulling back the firing bolt, and pulling the trigger. While "Speed Cola"'s inner workings remained a mystery to Michael, it didn't stop him from appreciating it.

Behind him, the sound of a shotgun would come again and again as Jacob made quick work of anything trying to flank the corpsman. The maelstrom of bullets ceased only after a few seconds later as the last ghoul fell. The casings chimed as Michael undeployed the weapon and made his way to his feet. "Well, that worked pretty damn well." Mike muttered. He looked himself over, and grimced. "Fuck, I'm out."

"Grab a shotty." Jake replied. "Pretty damn useful in here." Michael nodded, and returned to the Lance Corporal's side a few seconds later, heavy machine gun gone, M1897 in hand.

"Very nice..." Michael muttered, eying the weapon. Before he could finish his appraisal, something screamed-some_one_ screamed.

"What the fuck was that?" Jake blurted, his face going pale. Michael glanced at the stairs.

"It came from down there." Mike said, loading a shell into the barrel with one good pump.

-  
The ground at the Asylum was poisoned with blood and the souls of those who had died on its grounds. _Another curse_, Samantha thought bitterly. Many of the voices in her head would vanish should the Marines somehow win out in the end. They had died there, been used there by one man's dream of domination. They wanted vengance, something Samantha could not offer. She could, however, offer penance.

She was never alone in her lonely bastion far away from her home. She could see the house she had grown up in, now a bombed-out ruin. She could see where she had lived for years filled with her armies, waiting to be free, the many secrets with them hidden from the world. Sheer fear had kept the Soviets from finding Der Riese. Sheer fear could not, however, stop the Russians and Americans from capturing Group 935 scientists who had all, at some point, been to the place. She could not fight every battle-all she could do was stop her true enemy, the one who was hell-bent to control things beyond him.

Samantha's attention returned back to the Asylum. The ghosts of the dead, disemboided life forces that could affect reality and would not vanish until they were absorbed, haunted the halls. Most vanished immediately after being formed, but others stayed, and they were staying here, slowly destroying the place they had died in. Even if they didn't know it, the Marines were on a clock seperate from Samantha. The asylum was coming down, and it would kill them all if they didn't escape. And again, Samantha found herself torn. It could all end here-a noble death, dying to protect the Earth... She could even prevent them from being reanimated in the end as a sign of respect. But at the same time, these people were not her enemy. She could not pointlessly murder... could she? The voices in her head fell silent, and suddenly Samantha realized she was not alone.

-  
The halls creaked and groaned on their own. Tyler and Stephen glanced at each other, uncertainly. "This building's going down on it's own." Tyler said, bringing in the knowledge of his father, a construction worker. "The weight-bearing columns are pretty much shot," he said, looking at a large pillar, "and the ceiling has seen better days. Add to that hundreds of fuck-faces running around, and you have a recipie for total structural failure." He grimaced. "But that probably won't kill the Shield, will it?"

"I dunno." Stephen replied, nervously. "Will it?" Tyler shrugged.

"It could, but I doubt that it'd collapse well enough to cause the same kind of damage." He rounded the corner to see the best thing he had seen all day. There, in the corner, was the mystery box. To Tyler's left came the sound of people rapidly aproaching. Mike and Jake had arrived, panic on their faces.

"Ty, this place is going to shit." Michael said. "People are screaming who ain't there, things are starting to collapse..." He eyed the mystery box. "It's now or never." Tyler nodded, and walked to the crate.

-  
Samantha did not look into her visitor's black, soulless eyes. She did not want to because they were so big, and so deep, that it seemed like anyone who looked too deeply in would be sucked away into the lightless abyss. "What do you want?" Samantha asked hoarsly, fear somewhat in her voice.

"I think you know." The visitor replied, it's small slender mouth not even moving. Samantha glared at it, her eyes flashing an angry yellow.

"You want me to let them live, don't you?" Sam muttered. "I thought you told me to protect the Earth!"

"We told you to protect the _people_ of the Earth." The visitor replied, impatiently. "Let them play their power games-they will stabilize themselves as good men come to light. But your true enemy is your target."

"But-" Samantha said, knowing she was losing the argument.

"It is not like you are in a position to argue, Samantha Maxis." The visitor said, it's eyes narrowing. "We know you aren't supposed to be here, not now; we told you as much when you came here months ahead." Suddenly voices began to chime in Samantha's head, and she slammed her eyes shut, hoping to drown out the noise. "Spare them." The visitor said, and the voices began to chant the phrase over and over again. _Spare them! _They shouted. The noise reached a fever pitch.

"Alright!" Samantha shouted, her eyes wet with tears of fear and pain. "I'll do it!" But she was alone.

-  
The box opened to the sound of calliope music. The cycle of weapons passed by, but this time, it stopped where Tyler had hoped. The Ray Gun hung tantilizingly in mid-air, and Tyler snagged it. He could feel the power in his hands... then the world vanished on him.

It reappeared in a place that was becoming _very_ familiar to the Marine. Samantha stared at him, what almost looked like terror on her face. Despite all of Tyler's anger against her, something seemed very off. "What the fuck do you want?" Tyler asked, glaring angrily.

"I've been told to let you live." Samantha said, quietly. Tyler eyied her, confused.

"'Told'?" He repeated. The little girl nodded meekly. _She's afraid_, Tyler realized, stunned. _What could scare her?_ "By who?" Samantha did not answer, staring down at her teddy bear. Suddenly all of Tyler's anger rushed out of him, to be replaced by a dark terror. _If she's afraid, practically a god, then I had damn well better be._

"I'm not going to kill you." Samantha said, slowly. "The monsters are gone. You're free to go, but hurry-the asylum is coming down."

"The building was stable when we came in." Tyler replied, grimacing. "How could it be going like that?"

"Souls are like energy sources. Too many angry ones can destroy anything they touch as they self-destruct." Samantha answered, darkly. "They wan't blood, and that means you."

"I'm not leaving until I blow the Shield." Tyler shot back, defiant. "No more ghouls." Samantha glared at him, then sighed.

"Alright-shoot the generator with the Ray Gun, and it'll short-circuit the entire system." Samantha said, defeated. "Before you go, understand this-" Tyler looked at her, the world slowly beginning to fall away again and his world starting to return. "Your friend is alive, but I will kill him if he continues to help my enemy." Before Tyler could say anything, the vision was gone.

-  
"Tyler!" Michael shouted to the Sergeant as he flickered his eyes open. "Ty, you okay?" The Marine slowly nodded.

"Help me up, Mike." Tyler said, groaning. The building shook violently, dust floating down from the ceiling in thick etherial clouds. "This building is coming down, and soon."

"Then let's get the fuck outta here." Stephen shouted. Tyler shook his head.

"Mike, get everyone out-I'm gonna kill the Shield." Tyler ordered, readying the Ray Gun. Mike started a complaint, but Tyler cut him off. "As long as this damn thing is here, it's a threat. You saw the shit here-if the Soviets get their hands on it, they could take over the entire damn planet." Mike slowly nodded.

"Do you think you'll be able to get away in time?" The corpsman asked. Tyler shrugged.

"No promises, Mike." The Sergeant said, sighing. Michael nodded, and shook Tyler's hand.

"It's been a hell of a ride, Ty." The corpsman said, quietly. "Anyone you want me to say good-bye to?" The Sergeant thought about it for a second.

"Just my sister and my girl, Mike." Tyler said, softly. "I'm alone otherwise." The world seemed silent.

"Good luck, you stupid S-O-B." Michael said, walking away. Tyler nodded himself, and began making his way through the facility, finally alone.

-  
The asylum seemed to shake with every step, and screams came from every wall. Tyler ignored it all, moving through the building methodically, not daring to stop. The asylum's intercom squealed, and was replaced by Samantha's voice. "The reason you gave your friends to stay isn't the only reason, is it?" She asked.

"I wasn't lying when I said Ivan could use this." Tyler replied. "But as long as it is here, Oppenhiemer will keep trying to find out what's inside. Our job will never be done." Samantha sighed, as if she knew better, but didn't speak for a moment.

"This place was one of two dedicated to the Super-Soldier initiative." She narrated as Tyler walked through the decrepit halls. Spectral images appeared and paced down the halls, ghosts of the past. "It was run by a man named Edward. I called him 'Teddy'. He is my enemy, for he dreams of conquest." An image of the man appeared, and Tyler stared at the harsh features.

"What happened to him?" The Sergeant asked.

"He killed me." Samantha replied. The Marine turned, startled. "Or at least, I think he did. But that's another story." The image of Edward vanished as soon as it had appeared. "There was some tension building between Teddy's team and the men already here." Tyler saw people hiding papers, looking around conspiratorially. "Everyone feared that the other team would steal their secrets and take over. Richtofen's team was misled in that thinking, but the others couldn't say the same."

"What about Peter and Tank?" Tyler asked, reaching the room of blood and insanity.

"Peter was nowhere near the asylum when he was captured." Samantha said, clearly. "In fact, he was captured at that airfield. Teddy realized how close Peter was to discovering his plans, and sent him to a secret facility in Manchuria that would keep him restrained until Teddy could find what he knew."

"Another lie." Tyler muttered. "How did Oppenhiemer know about the asylum?"

"Peter managed to send a communique on several Nine-Thirtyfive facilities before being caught." Samantha replied, with a sigh. "Given that the airfield was in the way of the Allied advance, your doctor left it for someone else and sent Tank to the asylum to find Peter." An image of the Marine appeared, along with another figure that Tyler recognized from the bloody room, but nowhere else. "Their arrival caused a firefight, and in the process the monsters were unleashed by accident. Your friend's comrade went insane and died here, leaving a warning to all who survived." Tyler nodded as he walked through the kitchen and into the power room. The building shook violently, a rumbling sound rolling through the ruin.

"I just have one last question." Tyler asked, leveling the Ray Gun at the generator. "Why are you helping me? If you don't like any of this, why don't you stop it right now?" Samantha paused for a second before answering.

"Because none of this has happened to me yet." Sam said, before her voice vanished. Tyler froze, his mind racing as it tried to make sense of the impossible statement. Then the ground rumbled again and Tyler's mind snapped back to attention. Suddenly everything shook, and a loud crack shot out. To Tyler's right, the doorway had collapsed in on itself and blocked one of the ways out. The Sergeant turned, surprised, just before another roar came out of the building and more debris blocked the other way out. Panic raced through Tyler's body as he desperately tried to find a way out, but there would be no escape. Tyler sighed, defeated-he knew what he had to do. He had to end it, and soon, before the entire place buried him and left the damned Shield intact. Tyler closed his eyes, aimed, and pulled the trigger. The scream of fried electronics filled the air long with a familiar crackle-roar that Tyler had heard for the first time at the Airfield. A bright white light began the fill the world, and through his eyelids Tyler could feel the world vanish. _See you guys on the other side_, Tyler thought as the light overtook him.

-  
The Marines froze outside the asylum as the dome of light spread out from the asylum. Michael's eyes widened as he pieced the puzzle together in his head. Before anyone could say anything, the light overtook them all.

-  
Tyler opened his eyes, the dim light of the afternoon blending perfectly with the crimson glow of the burning forest. Smoke marred the odd scene, thick and black. The ruins of some building lay before him. Some part of his mind screamed the impossibility of the situation, but Tyler didn't know why. The panic vanished after a second, leaving Tyler confused as to _why _he had felt that way. "What happened to the asylum?" Stephen asked, somewhat surprised. "I thought it was there a second ago."

"Damn thing collapsed." Tyler muttered after a second. "Fuck, this is a wash. At least nothing's getting outta there." He turned to leave. "Come on; Oppenhiemer owes us a free ride home." Tyler cast one last look at the ruin. His eyes widened as he stared at a young girl, _the_ young girl from the airfield, smiling back at him and waving good-bye. Tyler blinked, and she was gone.

"Come on, Ty." Mike interrupted, putting his arm on the Marine's shoulder. Tyler turned, startled, before nodding.

"Yeah, let's get the fuck outta here." The Sergeant said, before pacing off. The corpsman glanced at the ruin before stopping dead. Reaching down to his coat, he was surprised to feel something foreign inside his uniform. He reached inside and pulled out a large book, several photonegatives, and blood-stained papers. All of them were alien to Michael, and all of them he did not have a second ago.

"Hey, Tyler?" Michael called, shocked. "What the fuck is this?"

**Epilogue One  
**The man sat in his office, rapping the desk he lay against anxiously. _Imbiciles_, the man thought bitterly. _Is it that hard to find a building that large?_ Before he could cuss in his language, the phone rang. He grabbed the phone sharply and raised it to his head. "_Ja_?" He said at first. "_Da?_" He amended himself after a sigh.

"We found it." The man said on the other end of the phone. "It is not intact, though-it looks like a bomb has gone off."

"_Schisse_." The man muttered, angrily. "Find what you can and ship it back here-we'll need all the equipment we can get."

"Yes, Doctor Gersch." The voice on the other end said promptly before hanging up. Gersch put the phone down and leaned back in his chair. Now was the time to plan for the future.

**Epilogue**** Two  
**The nightmare was dark, and felt like a maze. The man didn't know where he was going, where he was ending, but he did know he was not alone. Yellow eyes surrounded him, staring at him, an unholy sound ringing through his ears. Suddenly they lunged at him, and Tank Dempsey shouted.

He shot up in the bed, the panic of the night suddenly gone. Tank looked around to see dark green canvas. _I'm inside a truck,_ the Marine thought, suddenly. _How did I get here?_ The engine was off, and suddenly Tank realized he wasn't alone. A man stood over him in German uniform, eying him strangely. "Scho, you are avake?" A sudden rush of hatred flushed through Dempsey's veins.

"Who the fuck are you?" Tank replied, scrambling to his feet. "Where am I?" The German stood up straight in an impressive stance.

"I am Doctor Richtofen, _herr _Dempshey, and for ze rest, you schall find zat out later." Richtofen replied, coldly. The Doctor got out of the truck, lifting the flap to let the sun shine through. A stab of pain passed through Dempsey as his eyes adjusted. "Ve vill have to valk from here." Tank grimaced, but got out of the truck as well. The sickening feel of the wet ground and humid air meant only one thing-a swamp. _I don't know where I am, or what I'm doing here_, Tank realized. Only darkness lay ahead of him, and somewhere, yellow eyes.

-  
**NEXT:** _Four new men now fight in a mysterious swamp. Three do not know what is happening to them, but one knows more than he lets on. In this swamp hides a secret left unanswered, a conspiracy brewing, and a secret weapon that could turn the tides against the hordes of the undead. Can this new team work out their differences long enough before the undead can claim them in the _Shi No Numa? _Find out in _Chapter Seven: Far East_!_

**Author's Notes**: Well, we finally made it. Again, I'm opening the floor up for some Q&A, so message me any questions. Have a good one all of you, and thanks for sticking with me so far. Keep up the fire!

**Author's Note v.2: **For your listening pleasure- /watch?v=S1MtOJJnU38&list=FLmJNcZtLkHE2m3xsx4kpemA&index=31


	7. Chapter Seven: Far East

Chapter Seven: Far East

**PREVIOUSLY:** _The story of four Marines and their oddessy through hell is over, and now it is time for a new one. _Tank Dempsey _awakes with no memory of he arrived in a mysterious swamp along with three others. If they are to survive in the days ahead, they must learn to work together or become more victims of the _Shi no Numa

The early morning light was barely visible through the thick foilage of the jungle canopy. The beams stabbed at "Tank" Dempsey's tired eyes like blades, each ray as painful as a knife. The Marine looked around at his surroundings, trying to get his bearings and failing. "I'm definitely not in Europe or America," he muttered, "so I'm in the Pacific?"

"Manchuria, to be exahct." The heavily-accented voice of the mysterious Doctor Richtofen said in response. Tank turned to face the German.

"And what the hell am I doing in friggin' Manchuria?" Dempsey replied, dryly. "This is all Jap territory." His mind conjured a map of Asia, so much of it red under the Rising Sun. He couldn't remember when or where he had seen it, though.

"It _vas_ Japanese territory." Richtofen replied. Dempsey eyed him, the insinuation rippling through the Marine's mind. "_Ja_, ze var ist over."

"What's the date?" Tank asked, disorientation beginning to make the world spin. Richtofen laughed spitefully at the question.

"Come, let me introduce you to your new friends." The German said, beginning to walk deeper into the jungle. Dempsey eyed Richtofen warily, again feeling rage course through his body. There was something about this Doctor that Tank did not trust. But, as much as he didn't like it, he'd have to play along for now. Warily he followed Richtofen into the foilage.

Tank found the German standing vigil over two sleeping forms. "You vere ashleep longer zan ze others." The man said, staring at the Marine like he had three hands. "Zey vere, however, tired, _und_ must have fallen ashleep again vhen I vent to get you."

"Dude, the fuck is up with your voice?" Dempsey muttered, under his breath. He looked down at the two sleeping figures. One was Russian and was muttering something in a foreign tongue in his sleep. The other was a Japanese officer, his Katana laying next to the man's sleeping bag. Tank's eyes narrowed as he examined the man. "What the fuck is he doing here?" Tank growled, keeping an eye on the man. Richtofen looked down at the blissfully unaware Warrior.

"He is to be your comrade-in-arms." The Doctor said, oddly cheery. Dempsey looked at the man, incredulous.

"I'm supposed to _work_ with this bastard?" Tank hissed. "Do you know how many guys I've seen get killed by someone like this piece of shit?"

"His name is Takeo." Richtofen added, in a _I don't care_ tone of voice.

"I don't fucking care if his name is Jack-shit!" The Marine shouted, reaching for the Katana. Suddenly Takeo's eyes snapped open and he tackled the American, throwing him to the floor.

"That is not yours to touch." The Warrior said, strapping the blade around his belt. Tank and Takeo stared at each other, sizing their opposite up. Tank had blonde hair in a buzz cut, while Takeo had darker hair kept neatly under a green cap. Tank was a few inches taller than his Japanese counterpart, but Takeo seemed oddly at ease with that. Tank's dark brown eyes met Takeo's chestnut-coloured pupils in an intense gaze. "So, you are the third man." Takeo suddenly said.

"Third?" Tank replied, confused. "I know education is shit over there, but you should be able to count to four." Takeo ignored the slight.

"No, you are the third man without memory." Takeo pressed. Tank suddenly went pale, and a chill ran down his spine. _How did he know that?_ Indeed, Tank was unable to remember almost anything prior to waking up in the truck. Before he could say anything in reply, Richtofen cleared his throat and walked in-between the two of them. Unlike both Takeo and Dempsey, he had deep green eyes, and black hair that turned into streaks of silver by the temples. Whether or not he knew it, the Doctor's eye tended to slightly twitch.

"Ve schould wake up our Russian friend." Richtofen said, chuckling awkwardly. Tank shot a glare at Takeo before turning his attention to the sleeping figure. Unlike the rest of them, The Soviet's hair was hidden under a furry _ushanka_, and, after prying his eyelids open in an attempt to wake the man up, was found to have dark brown eyes. The man was impossible to wake, grumbling in a sleepy voice at every touch. Shaking didn't work, nor did yelling in his ear, and not even drenching him in water.

"Christ, we're getting nowhere fast." Dempsey muttered, frustrated. Takeo sat on a stump, watching Richtofen as the man sharpened a small doctor's scapel feverishly. Tank grumbled, then noticed a small bag next to the sleeping man. The Marine leaned over and picked it up. Inside the bag, glasses clinked together. Suddenly the Soviet's eyes snapped wide open-an event that Tank was getting unfortunately used to.

"_Faschisti Mudaku!_" The Russian swore vehemiantly in Russian, snagging the bag from Dempsey's startled hands. "Stay away from my wodka!" He eyed the Marine warily, then grimaced. "Oh, a Capitalist." The Soviet spat on instinct. Wearily, Tank glanced over at Takeo, and grimaced. _I hate my life._

_-  
_The introductions were short and tense, and almost all of them were marked with a lack of memory. Only Richtofen seemed fine when it came to that, but the man seemed... unhinged to Dempsey. The German eyed them all eerily, and spent a good amount of time muttering to himself as he sharpened and re-sharpened his knife

The Russian's name turned out to be Nikolai, and like the other two, had a case of amnesia. Nikolai was a clear alcoholic, constantly drinking Vodka, or as he called it, "Wodka". While Tank had no love for Takeo, he was preferable to the drunkard. "So, what do you think that _svoloch _over there wants from us?" Nikolai asked as they sat around on the ground, awaiting Richtofen's call to move deeper into the Jungle. "He's had us mucking around in this shit for hours." Takeo grunted, but did not answer.

"I think he's looking for something." Tank replied, leaning in. "He's been here before." Takeo nodded, solemnly.

"Some part of this must be difficult." The Warrior spoke. Tank and Nikolai looked at him.

"Why do you think that?" Nikolai asked. Takeo grimaced.

"Why else would he need us to go along if it was a simple pick-up?" He replied, plainly. The room fell silent. Richtofen cleared his throat, interrupting.

"Ve vill be continuing on soon." The German said, sullenly. "Ze place ve search for is near."

"What place would that be, Doc?" Dempsey asked, his voice sharp. "No bullshit, if you don't mind." Richtofen scowled at the Marine.

"You vill see soon enough." Richtofen replied, intensely. "No more questions!" Tank stood, tired of the Doctor's dodging answers, but Takeo moved quickly inbetween. Richtofen, meanwhile, went back to sharpening his knife.

"Now is not the time to fight each other." Takeo said, calmly. Tank, however, was sick and tired of being led around blindly through a God-forsaken swamp, and he was certainly fed up with being unable to remember anything past waking up. He wanted answers, and did not care for anyone in his way.

"Fuck you!" Tank shouted, pushing Takeo brutally away. The Warrior quickly regained his footing, standing right back up in a fighter's stance. "We're lost in the middle of a goddamn jungle on a fucking treasure hunt, with all of my memories gone, and I'm having to follow the orders of some stuck up Kraut bastard, and _you're _telling me now is not the time to _fight_?" Takeo glared at Dempsey, and pushed back.

"Maybe if you had some patience you might be able to learn something, instead of going off half-cocked to save the world!" Takeo shouted back, anger lighting his face. Behind them, Richtofen stopped sharpening his scapel.

"Oh, yeah?" Tank yelled in reply. "At least we don't get our fucking rocks off by cutting open pregnant chicks!" Tank's fist came down, only to be stopped mid-swing by the Doc, the man's arm holding him at the wrist.

"Gentlemen, please," Richtofen said in a menacing voice. "You don't vant to hurt yourself." There was something in Richtofen's eyes that Tank did not like. "Zhere is a greater enemy out zhere zan ze two of you."

"Oh, really?" Dempsey replied, pointing at Takeo. "I'm pretty sure he's right over there!"

"Your greatest enemy is yourself, Yankee." Takeo spat back.

"You are both wrong." The German muttered, angrily. "You have no idea how dangerous it is." Nikolai absurdly smiled.

"I knew it!" He suddenly interrupted. "We're fighting hangovers!" Slowly, the others turned to face Nikolai. "What?" He asked, nonplussed.

-  
The walk was quiet and uneventful after that, the only sound being made was that of footfalls and Takeo muttering under his breath in Japanese. By now it was late afternoon, and the sun was beginning to set. As Tank walked along, suddenly he stepped on something that sounded very little like the wet slop of mud. "What the hell?" The Marine muttered.

"Vat?" Richtofen said, hurrying over to the American's side. Tank did not care much for having the German so close to him, but he tried to ignore his nervous sensation.

"I stepped on something." Dempsey replied. "Sorta sounded like..." He trailed off as he smashed his boot down back on the same spot. A muffled clang rang out from underneath the swamp, resounding in the still air.

"Get it out of ze ground." Richtofen barked. Tank cleared the mud away with his boot best as he could before bending over and pulling a large metal sign up from the ground. Stamped on it was a simple, if not long, message: _Now Entering _Shi No Numa_ Research Facility-Proceed to Main Building for Identification. Traspassers will be Shot!_ Tank dropped the plate into the dirt once more.

"This is it, isn't it?" He asked, not expecting an answer. "This is the place."

"Finally!" Nikolai interjected, grumbling. "I was getting tired of Takeo's rambling." Tank glared at him.

"Shut up and get your gear." The Marine replied, moving further into the swamp. "Alright, Doc; start talking." Richtofen sighed before continuing.

"Zis vas vonce a research facility for Group Nine-Thirty-Five, a multinational research team hired by the Nazis." He started, pacing alongside the American. "One of zeir exschpiraments broke out, _und_ viped out ze facility." Tank cocked an eyebrow.

"Oh, so it was one of _those_ kinds of expiraments." He said, sarcastically. "What kind of expirament? Biological? Nuclear?" Richtofen shook his head at both of those, and handed the Marine, Takeo, and Nikolai American-made Colt M1911 .45 caliber pistols.

"The dangerous kind." Takeo muttered under his breath. Tank shot a look at the Warrior, who stared calmly back. In those calm eyes, Tank could see trepidation growing. It was likely that Takeo could see the same in his. Breaking away from the glance, he started going deeper into the swamp, loading a round into the barrel.

"Come on; let's find the main building, do whatever the hell we're doing, then get the fuck outta here." Dempsey said, raising the pistol to a more passive-agressive position at chest level. The other three followed close behind, Richtofen talking to no one under his breath.

-  
They came across the facility a few minutes later. The main gate was blocked with debris, and was impassible. It had taken a few more minutes pacing around the perimeter to find a nice point in the surrounding fence (probably electrified, Dempsey thought darkly) to clamber carefully through and into the base itself. Tank was oddly at ease with the odd silence-if the place was to abandoned, it was nice for it to _sound_ abandoned. In the back of his mind, the fact that he had been armed did not go unnoticed. _Why was I given a gun?_ He thought. Behind him, others took notice at the silence, though were far less optimistic.

"No, no, it's too _qvuiet!_" Richtofen hissed. Nikolai clapped the German drunkenly on the back.

"What are you afraid of?" The Russian said, cheerily. "No one is here!" He held a vodka bottle underneath Richtofen's (or where he thought Richtofen was) nose. "Drink?" The German ignored Nikolai, and brushed away from him. Takeo, however, nodded.

"The German is right-it is too quiet." Takeo said, readying his pistol. "Listen!" Tank stopped, and tried to pick up any sound. Suddenly, the comforting silence became eerie. "You do not hear even animals." Tank felt a chill run down his spine, the edgy feeling that he was being watched. He turned towards a large building in the distance, trying to see where that feeling was coming from, and found himself spying what looked like a little girl peering out at him.

"Hey!" Dempsey shouted, running towards the figure. "Hey, little girl!" Richtofen suddenly paled.

"Dempshey, vait!" He yelled, chasing after him. The German pulled out in one swift movement his Mauser P38 out. But curiosity had gotten the better of Tank, and he sped on, closer and closer to the huge bamboo structure, and passing underneath a cruel-looking device.

Inside, the building was a gory mess. Tables were overturned, spent shell casings lay dormant on the floor, and blood spattered everywhere. On one of the walls there seemed to be scratch marks, though whether they were tally marks of some score or a missed attack by something feral, Tank could not tell. _The dangerous kind_, Tank thought, Takeo's words echoing in his mind. Tank kept the pistol up, suddenly wary as he climbed a stairwell and onto the second floor. This section of the building was in better shape than the one before it, but was still marred with deep red pools. Bloody footprints were tracked along the floors. Some were clear and defined, while others were messy and dragged long lines of red along the floor. Looking up, Tank found himself staring at a man hanging suspended in the center of the room. He seemed peaceful, almost content. A sudden stab of pain apeared in Tank's head sent him sprawling to the floor, crying out in surprise. An image appeared in his head-he knew this guy somehow! The pain receded with the memory, a final echo calling out "You must find him, sergeant." Tank groaned, trying to get up, but found himself restrained by both Takeo and Nikolai. Richtofen was examining the body sullenly, shaking his head. "A pity." He muttered. Tank shot another look at the corpse, bracing himself for a wave of pain that did not come. _Who are you?_ He thought. _Why was I looking for you? _No answer came, though.

"Get him on his feet!" Richtofen commanded, sternly. Takeo moved to help the Marine up, but Tank brushed him off.

"Fuck off, I'm fine." He growled as he slowly stood. Richtofen paced over to him, eying the American. "Yeah?" Tank said, challengingly.

"You said you saw a little girl." Richtofen said, his voice eerily even. "Vat did she look like?"

"Why?" Dempsey responded, thrown off guard. "What does that have to do with anything?" Slowly, his mouth turned into a smirk, but before he could say any dry remark, Richtofen's scapel was an inch away from his eye. Tank stared the blade down, then glared into the green eyes of the German. "I've had worse, so don't try." He growled, slowly edging his arm up across Richtofen's blind spot. In one swift move, he grabbed the man by the arm and twisted him to the floor. "Okay, so now that we're done with your goddamn treasure hunt, why don't you tell us what 'ex' marks the spot for?" Richtofen grimaced back, but before any words were spoken a sudden cold wind blew through the facility.

"What was that?" Nikolai said, turning to face a boarded-up window, one of four on the walls. Tank, uncertain, let go of Richtofen's arm. The German fell to the floor in a painful crump before slowly getting back up on his feet.

"What was what?" Dempsey asked, surprised. Nikolai held up a hand, calling for quiet.

"Something is _moving_ out there!" The Russian hissed. Suddenly an eerie laugh filled the air, inhuman and foreign. Large crates, held aloft by netting, dropped onto the stairwell with a crash, blocking the stairwell down. They were cut off.

"What was that?" Tank shouted, confused. "What the fuck is going on?" Nikolai didn't seem to have noticed the commotion, and kept watch outside. He was, however, beginning to get more nervous by the second. "Richtofen, what the fuck is going on?" Dempsey yelled. Richtofen ignored the Marine and walked to Nikolai's side.

"Vat do you see, Russian?" The German asked, eying the thick foilage beyond the window. Nikolai grimaced, readying his pistol.

"There is something moving around out-" Nikolai stopped and pointed. The object of his attention was a man; a Japanese soldier in military garb. It walked oddly, a sudden jerky gait. From it's lips came an unnatural moan. Tank froze, ice in his veins: He had heard this moan before, in his tumultous nightmare. As if in a dream, he walked forwards to face the impossible, it's familiar yellow eyes staring back at him. "_Svoloch_ had too much to drink, eh?" Nikolai said, clearly happy to see it was something familiar that had stalked him. Tank glanced at Richtofen, who was smiling like the man before him was an old friend. Tank didn't like that smile one bit.

"Drinking is ze least of his problems now." Richtofen said, raising his Mauser P38 and lining up a shot. The pistol cracked, startling Tank.

"The fuck are you doing?" The Marine shouted, pushing the gun up. He looked back, expecting to see a body on the floor. Instead, the thing moved relentlessly forwards, undettered, a brutal bullet hole in it's chest. No blood poured from the wound. Dempsey's eyes widened and he took an instinctive step backwards. "Holy shit, that isn't human!" He shouted, horrified. Richtofen leveled the pistol again.

"You are right, Dempshey." The Doctor said, squeezing the trigger. The Mauser bucked and caught the... _thing_ in the head. This time, the monster fell, a dissapointed moan coming from it's lips. "It isn't human."

"What is it?" Takeo asked, holding his M1911 tightly.

"It is called _untoten_, or 'undead'. However, it is easier to call it a 'zombie'." Richtofen replied, dismissively. "Zat thing is ze exchpirament, or at least vone of many."

"'Many'?" Dempsey repeated. "How many?" Richtofen shrugged, and turned his attention to the room the Four occupied.

"Zere are four vidnows in, _und_ zere is four of us." Richtofen barked. "Aim for zere heads, or you vill vaste ammo." The team moved to the boarded-up entryways. Tank eyed the hanging body warily, then turned his attention to the window before him. Richtofen also eyed the hanging man, then walked to his window. Suddenly, the Doctor blinked, realizing something. A chalk outline of a Japanese "Arisaka" rifle was etched on the wall. "Curious..." Richtofen muttered. A moan refocused his attention, and Richtofen smiled. "Come to me, my pets!" The German shouted, a wild look in his eyes. "Come to ze _Doktor_!"

-  
Tank got his first look at one of the beasts only a few seconds after reaching his window. Unlike the other one, this thing was dressed in an outfit like Takeo, and walked in an odd "Samurai" gait. The Marine put a bead on the monster's left "eye", and pulled the trigger. The M1911 bucked in his hands as the round careened into his target's skull. Tank tried not to enjoy watching it slump over, lifeless... Too much. An odd energy seemed to run through Tank's veins as the beast's eyes went form an angry yellow to a cool white.

In the corner of Tank's eye was the chalk outline of a weapon. The Marine automatically classified it as a German-made Gewehr-43 Semi-automatic carbine. Tank blinked, surprised at his automatic familiarity with a weapon that his own army never used. Before he could think about it anymore, a moan caught Tank's attention. Another ghoul appeared, moving unsteadily towards the barrier. Decay had made a mockery of it's once-pristine visage. "Huh." Dempsey muttered. "The thing looks like it's been dead for weeks." He grimaced at the thought of things like this prowling for anything longer than a milisecond, then lined up again. Once more, the M1911 cracked, and the beast before him crumpled like a discarded toy. Nikolai, who had been watching, nodded.

"Very good, Dempsey." He said, cheerily. "You are almost good sober as I am drunk. Wodka?" He asked, waving the bottle under Tank's nose.

"Later." The Marine warily replied. "Let's finish up here first." Nikolai bobbed his head, somewhat disappointed.

"Suit yourself." The Soviet said, ambling back to his window. The sound of gunfire began to pitter out until it was gone.

"Is that it?" Tank asked, leaning away from the window. Richtofen shook his head, amused.

"_Nien_, vhy?" Richtofen replied, teasingly. "Getting tired?" Tank grumbled under his breath, but stayed quiet. "Ve schall be here for a vhile, don't vorry about zat." He looked around at the room warily. "In any case, ve must recontinue searching for ze veapon." Takeo raised an eyebrow.

"Weapon?" The Warrior repeated. "What weapon?" Richtofen glowered at Takeo, but sighed.

"It _ist ein _electricity veapon, called ze Vundervaffe Dee-Gee Two." Richtofen said, slowly. Tank snorted.

"What kind of name is that?" He said, grinning. "I can see you now-'All fear my Wonder-Waffle'!"

"Vunder. Vaffe." Richtofen said in return, glaring at the Marine. "Not vunder-vaffle." The Doctor sighed, and looked out into the swamp. "It vas meant to vin ze var for Germany, but it vas never mass-produced. Only three prototypes exist, but ze other two are as good as gone. However, zere is vone here, _und_ ve came here to secure it."

"Why do we need gun that powers lightbulb?" Nikolai asked, dryly, listing to the left at about thirty degrees. Richtofen opened his mouth, crossly, to answer, but a moan cut him off. Everyone suddenly returned their focus back to the windows, and paced back to their positions. Tank walked to his barrier, chuckling about the "wonder-waffles". Nikolai suddenly burst out laughing as a thought struck him. "Hey, Dempsey!" He said in-between guffaws. "Maybe is toaster-oven?" Tank started laughing along with the Russian, trying to steady his aim in vain.

"Assholes." Richtofen muttered under his breath.

-  
Tank's chuckles faded as more ghouls apporached his position. Unlike the last "wave", the undead moved in pairs of two. Tank lined up on the first zombie he saw and pulled the trigger. The round hit straight on, but the ghoul didn't seem to notice. "Shit..." The Marine muttered, shooting again. The second bullet took the monster's head straight off, tumbling through the air like some gruesome volleyball. "Suck it, freakbag." Tank rumbled, switching to the next target. Again, though, the first round did almost nothign to it, while the second obliterated whatever it hit. "Uh..." He started. "Is it just me, or are these bastards getting tougher?" Richtofen looked back at Dempsey.

"Funny, zey shouldn't be able to do zat." Richtofen muttered aloud. "She couldn't have gotten zat powerful..." He suddenly said in a hoarse whisper. The Doctor turned his attention back to the ghoul by his window, and quickly fired off two rounds from his Mauser. The monster's skull exploded into a fine red mist, to which the German let out a squeal of joy. "His head exchploded!" He suddenly shouted. "Such _joy_!" Tank shot a wary look at Nikolai, who shared the same concerned face. _The only guy who knows anything is friggin' nuts. Great._

Thankfully, the second wave did not last terribly long. Takeo eyed his weapon distrustfully after the last cracks had echoed away into the swampy oblivion outside. "Our weapons are becoming useless." The Warrior said. "It is time we try finding new ones." Takeo turned to see the chalk outline of an Arisaka on the wall. "Who drew that?" He asked, surprised. Tank shrugged.

"I don't know." He admitted, grimly. "But I don't think that it was there when I came up here." Takeo's eyebrows furrowed, trying to piece it together in his head, and stared at the outline.

"It must mean something." The Warrior said, tensely putting the palm of his hand on the outline in an attempt to feel for anything unusual. Suddenly, he doubled over in pain.

"Tak!" Tank shouted, running over to the man's side, concern rushing through him despite that only a few minutes before they had been worst enemies. The Warrior brushed the Marine away as he tried to gain a hold of himself. Tank's eyes widened as he looked at the thing in Takeo's hand.

"I am okay." Takeo said, straightening his back. He hefted the Arisaka in his hands. "Better than okay, it seems. The Emperor has smiled on me." The other three stared, shocked, at the weapon's sudden appearance.

"And how the fuck did he do that?" Nikoklai shouted, pointing at Takeo like the man had grown a third eye. "That was not there a second ago!" Richtofen eyed Takeo suspiciously.

"And vat happened to you ven you got zis rifle?" The German asked. "It scheemed zat you vere in _paihn_." Richtofen put an odd inflection on the last word, and Dempsey raised an eyebrow at the pronounciation. Takeo shook his head, unsure.

"It felt like I had lost stamina, like someone had hit me in the chest." Takeo admitted. "The sensation did not last, and it would be wise for all of us to arm ourselves accordingly." Tank eyed the outline warily.

"That rifle you've got..." Tank started. "Bolt action?" Takeo nodded, sizing his weapon up. The Marine's eyes glanced to the outline of the Gewehr-43. Soemthing moaned outside-another wave was coming.

"Vhatever your plan is, Dempshey, make it fast." Richtofen suddenly announced. "I schall take zis rifle _und_ make ghlorious _paihn_!" The Doctor "bought" the weapon, crumpled over, then stood ramrod straight again and strutted painfully over to his window. Takeo went back to his spot, leaving Dempsey and Nikolai standing by the outline of the '43.

"Well, you go first." Nikolai grunted, uncertainly. Tank closed his eyes, and imitated what Takeo had done. The instant his palm hit the bamboo wood, he suddenly doubled over as pain shot through his abdomen. It felt like someone had done a pirouette on his diaphram, and Tank doubled over as the feeling rushed through him. He felt oddly drained by the experience, but the feeling faded. Slowly, the Marine straighted out, G43 in hand. "How did it feel?" Nikolai asked.

"Why don't you give it a shot and we'll compare notes?" The Marine shot back, dryly. Nikolai harumphed, and cautiously put his palm on the outline. He wheezed as he doubled over, then slowly stood back up, German weapon in hand. He spat in disgust as he held his enemy's weapon in his palms, then paced amnicably back to his window. Dempsey stared at the Russian, who turned and smiled. "Eh, is like second wife." He chuckled. "Hits hard, but worth it." Tank cocked an eyebrow, taking an automatic step back.

"_Second _wife?" The Marine replied, surprised. "What happened to the other one?"

"Accident." The Soviet answered, before lowering his voice conspiratorially. "She was bitch." Tank shook his head, and turned around before Nikolai decided to follow up. _Christ, this guy makes Takeo look good! _Dempsey thought. _Takeo! And he barely fucking speaks!_ Nikolai seemed gleefuly unaware of the thoughts running through Tank's mind, and chuckled. "Come, the _paz'da_ approach." Nikolai hefted the weapon up to his shoulder, but seemed to lazily examine the iron sights. "Now, which one is _real_ sight?" He mumbled, trailing off. Tank sighed and focused on the window, where yellow-eyed monsters approached through the fog.

-  
Tank lined the Gewher-43 on the slowly approaching zombie. Like it's predecessors, it was once a Japanese soldier. The eyes shone a hollow yellow, and it's nose was almost completely gone, the pale sheen of bone visible beneath mottled flesh. Tank lined up on the natural aiming point that the shining pupils gave him, and squeezed the trigger. The carbine bucked up against his shoulder, the spent brass shell popping free from the rifle instantly. The round impacted with the ghoul in a heartbeat, and tore the thing's head to pieces. It fragmented into bloody shards of brain and muscle. Tank grinned. "Goddamn, this is a good rifle!" He glanced down at the gun, appreciating the German marksmanship and manufacturing quality. "Take it, maggot-sacks!" Tank shouted, adrenaline rushing through his veins. Another freak shuffled forth, making it's way towards the barrier in a Samurai gait. The rifle came up again, and once more another sharp crack split through the silence of the swamp. The bullet hit with a satisfyingly wet noise. A third pace behind the second, it's arms oustretched. Tank lined up, and with a single shot put the thing flat on it's back, the bullet-hole placed perfectly in the center of it's forehead. Behind him, the rattle of gunfire died down toa stop. The wave had ended yet again.

"It is about time ve try to go downshtairs." Richtofen said, his heavy accent butchering every word. "Ze Dee-Gee Two is not in zis room." Tank shrugged.

"Good luck getting there." He said, grimacing. "All that shit fell on the staircase." He pointed at the heavy crates that had collapsed over the entryway down into the lower bowels of the bamboo structure. They all looked heavy, and as if to make matters worse they were surrounded by netting. It was impossible to take them away one at a time, meaning that the way down was almost inaccessible.

"Perhaps we must 'buy' this as well?" Takeo suggested, helpfully.

"Worth a shot, I guess." The Marine replied, grimacing. "I'm not paying for it; if the Doc's got the mad-on to get down there, he can open it." Richtofen shot a dirty look over at Dempsey, who gave a grin in reply. The German harumphed, stood ramrod straight, and paced over to the blocked stairs. Leaning over, he put the palm of his hand against the debris. Lightning suddenly struck from nowhere, hitting dead-on the center of the mess. Slowly, the pile began to levitate up and away, being raptured towards the ceiling in a pillar of blue-white light. Tank, Nikolai, and Takeo all stared as the boxes went up and up before vanishing with a poof. Richtofen, however, wavered unsteadily, then toppled forwards as the only thing holding him aloft had gone towards the heavens. With a pathetic yelp, he tumbled down the stairs, and collapsing with a crunch on the floor below.

"Help!" Richtofen cried from below. Tank cocked an eyebrow, surprised to learn that the German had the word in his vocabulary. "I've fallen _und_ I can't get up!" Dempsey shot a glance back at Takeo, sighing. Slowly, the Marine went down the stairs to see a dazed Richtofen talking to himself, his head bobbing precariously. "_Ja, mutti, ich ein hausaufgaben gemacht..._" Richtofen muttered. Dempsey grabbed Richtofen by the collar of his shirt and hefted him up to his feet.

"Come on, up you go." Tank said with a grunt of exertion. "Our leader, everyone." He said, dryly. Richtofen shook his head like a wet dog would, and pulled away from the American.

"I vas exchploring zis new room vhile you lay-abouts dicked around upshtairs." The German said, proudly.

"More like explore floor." The Russian teased, smirking. Tank chuckled along with the Soviet.

"_Schtop laughing!_" Richtofen suddenly shrieked, startling the two jokers. Before the American could say anything, something had caught Richtofen's eye. "Oho, _vas ist das_?" He muttered under his breath. Richtofen slowly paced towards a faintly glowing wooden box against the wall, the same wall Dempsey had noticed odd... marks._  
_

"That wasn't there earlier..." Tank muttered, trailing off. Richtofen seemed curious, and moved cautiously towards it. "What is that?"

"A memory, _Herr _Dempshey." Richtofen replied. "Zis is ze crate vhere ve shtored ze prototype of ze Dee-Gee Two." Tenuously, he moved closer and closer. Soemthign howled outside. The trance broken, Richtofen stood ramrod straight. "More are coming."

"More?" Nikolai repeated, incredulous. "How many could there be?"

"I vould schay a hundred, maybe more." Richtofen answered, pleasantly. "I'm sure ve can handle zat, _hm_?" Tank grimaced.

"Not if they keep getting tougher." Dempsey replied. He ran the situation through his head: Upstairs were four windows, while this floor had more, though how many he didn't know. To make matters worse, there was a low fence that was easily vaulted or crawled underneath. "Nikolai, Richtofen, go upstairs." Tank barked, suddenly taking command. "I'll stay here with Takeo and keep them from running up to you guys." The Marine half expected Richtofen to complain, but he only nodded and bounded up the stairs, two at a time.

"Now what?" Takeo asked, the sounds of moans getting closer. Tank grinned.

"We fight." The Marine replied, readying the Gewehr.

-  
The ghouls approached relentlessly, slowly making their way forwards... at first. Tank lined up at the "point-zombie" when suddenly it broke into a sprint. "Shit!" Tank cussed, firing a round off. The Gewehr cracked, and the ghoul fell. For the moment, Dempsey was still above the curve, though the new talent of the monsters did little to comfort him. As if to compensate for the loss of one of their comrades, more zombies suddenly appeared from the swamp and charged forwards. A clump of five rushed towards the window, their yellow eyes becoming blurs of color. Tank raised his rifle and opened fire, his heart hammering at the same beat of his increasingly more panicked shots. One monster collapsed as the heavy bullet passed through it's skull, deflating it's head like a popped balloon. Another took a round to the neck, severing it's spinal cord. It's head flopped lazily backwards as it charged on before another lucky shot took it completely off. The third and fourth were slowly overwhelmed with Dempsey's volley of fire, their bodies slumping lifeless to the floor. By the time Tank turned his attention to the last ghoul, it was pulling at the heavy wooden barriers. Tank jerked away from the wall as the zombie stuck a grasping fist through the window.

Tank leveled the Gewehr one last time, and pulled the trigger. The freak's skull exploded as the round went straight through. More gunfire alerted Tank that the horde hadn't ceased it's onslaught. He eyed the damage caused by the lone monster, a board laying on the ground outside uselessly. As if on instinct, the Marine put his palm against the wall, hoping the same magic would work this time. The ghostly sounds of hammers surprised Tank, but not nearly as much as the board jumping to life and re-affixing itself to the wall. Tank looked at his handywork, impressed, then ran away from the barrier to help. Leaving the little inlet he had set himself up at, Dempsey found himself facing several ghouls clambering over the small fence outside in the courtyard. The small swampy knoll was littered with crates, which made the environment only all the more cramped as six more ghouls barreled down at him. Tank didn't bother to aim, but backpedaled, firing the weapon into the horde. Suddenly, the Gewehr clicked. Desperately, Tank threw the clip away and began fumbling for a new one when suddenly he tripped. On the wet muddy grass, he began pushing himself back, defiantly reaching for his M1911 and firing the pistol into the horde as they readied to pounce. Just as they were about to collapse on him and undoubtedly tear him from limb to limb, the sharp crack of rifle fire from behind came at the same instant as one of the ghoul's faces imploding. The others looked away from their downed prey and at Takeo, standing challenging behind the Marine. They ran for him, but Takeo wielded the Arisaka like a master, each round on target. The last ghoul moved lamely towards the Warrior, who sheathed the rifle and reached for the sheathe by his side. In one smooth move, the Katana came out, whispering as it left it's home. Takeo held the shining white blade in a ready stance, then with a single move, swung. The blade moved like a flash of light, and suddenly the ghoul's head was gone, flying through the air like a cork. Takeo sheathed the sword, then reached his hand out. Tank grabbed it, and got to his feet.

"Thanks." Dempsey said, picking up his Gewehr. "Bitchin' sword, man." He grinned, eyeing the Katana. Takeo gave a wan smile in return.

"Sometimes, old ways are best." The Warrior replied, letting out a tense breath. "The fighting has stopped again." He said. "It would be best if we-" Fog rolled in like a wave, the thick grey mist suddenly enveloping everything.

"What the hell?" Dempsey muttered, surprised. Thunder cracked angrily above them both. Suddenly, a blue ball of light appeared in the center of the courtyard, lighting sparking around it.

"Fetch me their souls!" Something roared, it's distorted voice echoing across the swamp. The ball exploded in white light, and when the flash died down something that looked like a dog stood in it's place. It's flesh was mottled, flames licked from it's body, and it's eyes shone a deep yellow. The hellhound roared, then bounded towards the two, it's sharp teeth gleaming in the light.

-  
**NEXT:** _As the Hellhounds are unleashed, the Four continue their hunt for the DG-2. But dark things are hidden in the swamp, and a conspiracy long started begins to come to a head. Can Tank recover the powerful weapon and uncover what was being done at the facility and how it died, or will his mysterious enemy triumph? Find out in _Chapter Eight: The DG-2.


End file.
